#music business job board

[duskyvenus]

444: Written in the Stars

A PAC about the person who is the one for you 💖 Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Open your eyes and choose the photo that speaks to you. Six piles left to right. This is for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates.

Pile 1

Your person likes/has cats or cats can be significant in your relationship. This person really likes nature and animals. They like listening to music and may have a record player at home. Could also be an artist. A highly sensitive person. They see beauty in everything. They like taking photos to capture memories. May have brown hair or brown eyes. March and April might be important. This person is a bit melancholic and absentminded at times (?) It can be hard to notice at first but they have a lot on their mind. Nevertheless they know that they are more sensitive than most people and try to stay hopeful. You could feel resilience and healing energy oozing from them when you talk to them. They could also be a therapist or counselor or someone who studies psychology. They have the vibes of a very calm and nice teacher who minds their own business. They know how powerful words can be and they insist on maintaining peace. A very helpful person. "I know you can do it but let me do it for you" kind of person. Numbers and signs: 33, 3, 19, 14, Pisces, Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, Sagittarius, Cancer, Leo

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 2

Your person likes coffee or tea. They like celebrating their wins. I'm seeing cakes and lots of smiling faces. They are definitely very outgoing. They like forming meaningful relationships, not just mindless networking. They have creativity and a lot of ideas, so they could be a content creator or influencer. Sharp, spontaneous and open-minded. They're also financially secure; I'm seeing a job in finance. And they rely on people a lot more than they should? Maybe because they are looking for something that they can't find in a job. I'm seeing some co-dependency. They carry a lot of nostalgia and regret in their heart; someone who feels homesick for people. They may have studied anthropology and sociology. Couple outfits or couple activities is their thing. The type of person who gets hurt by people but still cannot imagine a whole life without a partner. June or October might be significant. They collect things like stamps or shells or dried flowers. Their house could look like a museum. YOLO could be their motto. Numbers and signs: 25, 1, 11, 13, Libra, Sagittarius, Aries, Leo, Taurus, Pisces

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 3

This pile has some young energy. Someone with a competitive spirit. They have this spoiled princess/prince persona for the people that don't know them very well. In reality, they are someone who works very hard to achieve success and they could be very smug about their accomplishments which might put some people off. I'm sensing that they believe in manifestation and law of attraction. They're also a bit defensive and guarded so it's hard to get to know them. I think they are someone who just wants to have control over their own life. They might have grown up in a situation where they didn't have much control over decisions concerning them so now, they are just trying to get their power back. They learned to stand up for themselves so now the people that could no longer control them are not happy about it. They made peace with it though. They're focusing on making their pinterest board dream life come true. One of their biggest dreams is to live in a beautiful house. January and August could be important. Numbers and signs: 16, 8, 5, 4, Scorpio, Virgo, Pisces, Capricorn, Aquarius, Aries, Sagittarius

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 4

Your person is everywhere but also nowhere. They remind me of shows like my liberation notes, they feel like a warm cup of tea that comforts you at the end of a stressful day. They are the “always the artist but never the muse" trope. Similar to pile 1, they are soft spoken and kind. They fit in but they don't feel seen. They like journaling their thoughts because they feel so much. "I don't know where to put it down" Despite this, they have a small group of friends that feel like soulmates or soul family to them. Getting closer to them can be hard because they just enjoy their own solitude that they don't feel the need to be with someone all the time. Very independent. When you get to know them though, you will find that they are very accepting and funny even. A true friend and a loyal partner. They will love to share their interests and hobbies with you. They desire someone who gets them on a spiritual level and they will always be there for you. They really value loyalty and a no bs attitude. For some of you, they could be from a different culture/country. They can probably speak many languages. The type to learn your native language so that communication is never a barrier. Numbers and signs: 32, 13, 14, 5, Virgo, Gemini, Pisces, Leo, Libra, Capricorn, Scorpio, Aquarius

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 5

This person has an elusive persona. The cold and rich male lead character of a manhwa/drama. They prefer night over day; might be a night owl. They are secretly a hopeless romantic. They need someone who is like sunshine. Initially they give off this dark, serious and mature vibe but underneath they have a very soft core. They are a very caring and nurturing person but that energy has been stifled because of their environment. The reason why they act so serious is because they don’t want people to take advantage of them. To them, you are like a warm ray of sunshine that makes them feel alive again. They hate authority. They hate having all these responsibilities that tie them down and keep them busy. They are deserving of their position because of their hard work and leadership qualities, but sometimes they just want to run away from it. They feel that they have a different purpose. However, they could be hesitant to move on from their comfort zone. Out of all the piles, this pile is the most eager to meet you. They said, “you have so much light, the plants grow towards you”. Numbers and signs: 25, 8, 14, 3, Capricorn, Virgo, Leo, Cancer, Taurus, Aries, Libra

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 6

This pile has a very endearing energy. Someone who goes through all of it and yet chooses to be kind. “Memories are all I have” A very poetic or sentimental kind of person who struggles in making decisions. Also, they like humor based on their own pain. They like visiting places that are off the grid and collecting random things. They often dress up to go nowhere. They tend to do a lot of silly things that wouldn’t make sense to the average person because they are silly, duh. Quite the hopeless romantic too. Apart from all the silliness, they are avoidant of the reality because they often dissociate and have tendency to spiral into inner turmoil. They may struggle to understand their own feelings. All this is hidden under the persona of being the happy go lucky friend. In the end, they just want to bond over the little things and enjoy the mundane tasks of everyday life with someone. They may work in a field related to children or history. May, September could be significant. Numbers and signs: 26, 6, 2, 18, Cancer, Scorpio, Gemini, Pisces, Virgo, Libra, Aries

Thank you for reading!!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

CH10. Cheque, Please! | The Menu [2.2K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

ONE YEAR LATER

The diner was packed. 

Tables were full, the large room a buzz of chatter and music, the speakers playing an old sixties bop. It was a familiar sight, one that happened more often than not since Jim sold the diner. The new owner ripped the place apart, down to its old bones before he put his life savings into it. 

New floors, new tables and chairs, artwork on the walls that were signed by Argyle, a photo of the whole staff taken and framed by Jonathan, Jim Hopper at the forefront, a wide smile on his face on the last day before his retirement. The bulbs in the neon sign outside had been replaced so it no longer flickered, the green and blue glow of it now announcing the diner’s new name, proud and bright for everyone to see. 

Eddie’s Slice Of Chicago. 

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out as you entered the kitchen empty plates piled high in your arms and Jonathan took them from you with practised ease. 

Steve was on the grill, still hesitant and not as fast as Argyle, but he was flipping burgers quicker than he had last week. His chef whites were brand new, his name badge shiny and his front of house position taken over by Nancy. Everyone was in new uniforms, freshly pressed and a sage green, aprons still without stains and a pocketful of pens that didn’t run out of ink too quickly. Robin was taking orders, laughing with a family from out of town, letting their toddler grab at her finger as she promised them to return soon with their pizzas and shakes. Dustin was helping Max run a large order to a table of backpackers, a border collie under the table at their feet, getting its ears scratched by the new start, Mike. 

There was a sign on the staff notice board, up beside the employee of the month, a piece of ripped paper with the words “SIXTY FOUR DAYS SINCE THE LAST FREEZER BREAKDOWN.” The rest of the space was filled with staff photos, polaroids and prints of the group at a fourth of July picnic, a barbecue at Jim’s in the summer, huddled around the kitchens countertops in the winter, drinking from mugs filled with Argyle’s homemade horchata, the frame that held Billy’s scrawled termination letter, an old napkin that held a small conversation in pen. 

It felt more like home than ever. Even when Eddie wasn’t there. 

Everyone answered to you in his absence, unofficially in charge when the boss wasn’t here. It had taken some getting used to, hell, you’d even tried to pawn off the responsibility to Nancy, or Steve, anyone who’d been at the grill longer than you had. But Nancy was part time, back at college during the week, taking Robin on dates in the evenings and Steve was too busy being trained as a new prep chef to worry about invoices and deliveries. 

So you stepped into the role cautiously, softening to the idea when Eddie kissed you something fierce and told you that there wasn’t anyone else he trusted to do the job. His acceptance letter had come the month after taking over the diner. A thick, white envelope that lay heavy on your doormat because he’d finally moved in, sharing your small apartment with you like he did everything else. 

Clothes. Jewellery. Books. Records. Food. Kisses. 

Vincennes University offered Eddie the chance to do what he hadn’t been able to before. Refining his craft, learning new skills, working in a state of the art kitchen with equipment he’d come home and gush to you about. The diner was doing well enough that tuition wasn’t a worry anymore and suddenly, the long commute into Indianapolis for classes four days a week seemed worth it. Eddie was passing with flying colours, receiving accolades and opportunities at every given moment and when he came home, exhausted but happy, he came home to you. 

Bone tired, he’d slip into the apartment, socked feet padding gently over the floorboards, Tupperware full of something delicious to be stacked in the fridge. He’d find you curled up somewhere, a black cat called Basil in the nook of your bent legs. He’d kiss you sweet, he’d kiss you soft, warming you up to a simmer until you forgot how much you’d missed him that day. 

It was all worth it. 

“Table eighteen wants extra hash browns and booth six needs two pepperoni’s and the Hawkins special, chefs,” you called to Steve as you slapped the orders onto the bar. 

“Got it,” Steve and Argyle called back, one a little more nervously than the other but it was okay, ‘cause Eddie was home soon. 

Eddie was home soon. 

He’d called from a pay phone outside of the school, voice buzzing with excitement, with pride, and yours mirrored his back. He’d be on the train soon, he’d meet you at the apartment, if you could get away early. So you handed your keys to Nancy and she grinned, knowing there was a cause for celebration waiting at home for you. You drove Eddie’s van back along the road, coming into town on the familiar stretch, passing Wayne’s, the trailer park you both visited every Sunday for dinner. 

The apartment door was unlocked, dimly lit in the early fall gloom, already smelling like garlic and tomatoes, like fresh bread and the scent of Eddie cologne that lingered on his jacket that hung in the hallway. Eddie’s records were in the shelves by your books, his guitar hanging from a hook in the tiny office room, his shoes on the bench by the door. He’d transformed your kitchen when he’d moved in, a decision that had been all too easy to make. There were  pots and pans hanging from the rack, shiny, sharp knives that he was scared of you using without him there, jars and tubs of ingredients stacked high in the fridge and the pantry. There were fresh herbs in planters on the window sill. The radio always played. 

The kitchen always felt like the heart of the home. 

That’s where you found Eddie, sweater sleeves rolled up and grinning at you from the stove top, a large spoon in hand as he mixed in some fresh rosemary to the pot of sauce. He greeted you with a glass of wine, the cheap stuff that you liked best, catching you in a kiss before you could bring the cup to your lips. 

He kissed you soft, kissed you sweet, humming when you laughed into his mouth, his free hand slipping inside of your shirt to ghost his fingers over your ribs. 

“Hi,” you whispered. You’d never tire of this. This warmth, this kind of greeting, this feeling of coming home. “Good day?”

Eddie nodded, stealing another kiss, catching the corner of your mouth. He gazed at you, eyes shining with excitement and you could practically feel the buzz in his bones for what he was about to say. 

“I got it.”

You blinked, once, before your smile turned into a grin and it stretched wide. You barely had the common sense to place your wine on the countertop before you launched yourself at the boy, your arms wound round his neck as your crushed your face into his curls. Eddie whooped, a joyful thing as he lifted you off your feet and grinned against your throat. 

“You got it,” you whispered back to him, everything in you frilled with awe and pride. 

“I got it,” he repeated again. His voice sounded thick. 

The internship with Chef Emmelie was something that everyone in Eddie’s class was vying for. Eddie had spent an insane amount of time on his application, using you as his own personal taste tester in both work and home. New recipes were concocted, old dishes were reworked and it had all paid off. Eddie had been hand picked to work alongside one of the country’s greats, assisting in setting up a new restaurant, a fine dining establishment that promised to deliver nothing but the best cuisine to the masses. Eddie would help create the menu, and hopefully, maybe, eventually, take over as head chef. 

It was another level of surreal. 

“I knew you would,” you mumbled into his neck, pulling back only to crush Eddie’s cheeks in the palms of your hands and give him a kiss that ducked his breath away. His lips tasted salty, but perhaps that was your own tears you could taste. Eddie just held onto you tighter, his stew mix bubbling away without any attention. “Where is it? Have they told you where you’re setting up?”

You’d held Eddie’s hand as he clutched his application letter and promised him that no matter where they sent him, you’d follow. The only thing that tied you to Hawkins, was the boy and Basil was easy enough to smuggle into a cat carrier, once you could catch him. Wayne had squashed any hesitancy from Eddie immediately, waving him off and saying that there would be private jets for each of you once he hit the big time as the new celebrity chef. And of course, there was the diner. 

Eddie laughed then, a breathy, disbelieving thing and he finally shuffled to settle you onto the small dining table that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He nudged his way in between your legs, sniffling when Basil appeared to wind around his own ankles and the only sounds were the purring of the cat and the simmering of dinner. You held your breath, brows raised, expectant. 

London? Dubai? Paris? Los Angeles?

“They wanna set up in Chicago.”

—————

Going back to the city you left was a lot less daunting with Eddie by your side. 

Wayne moved out of the trailer park and into your apartment, something that made leaving a little easier for Eddie. He still owned the diner, and promised to stop by at least a few times a month if scheduling around the new restaurant would allow. He’d found a new manager, a woman from town called Joyce who loved to bake and knew enough about taxes and accounting that she didn’t fuck up order and invoices. She loved the place like Eddie did, promised she’d do it proud. 

(She met Jim on Sunday in summer and after she served him her famous cherry cheesecake, one date in the park had turned into three, into five and now they were inseparable. They spent most of their time walking around town, visiting farmers and Jim enjoyed his retirement by helping Joyce create new desserts for the diner.)

Eddie’s internship came with an apartment in the suburbs, a small townhouse that was far enough from the hustle of the city that you felt more at home than before. It was less bright, less loud and Basil had a garden to roam in, a bench beside a vegetable patch he could bathe in the sun from. 

It had a pantry and old oak floors, a huge window that looked out onto the street that was lined with cherry trees, and a nook in the living room that you liked to read in. You found a job, pretty easily, a vintage bookstore on the edge of town that smelled like coffee and cinnamon, old pages and older stories. It was owned by an old man who let his dog sleep under the front desk, who brought in pastries for breakfast and made you sweet tea in the summer. 

The restaurant opened in the spring. Hit headlines the following day, praising the special on the menu made by newcomer chef, Edward Munson. By the summer, the heat was climbing and so was Eddie’s popularity. He was running the restaurant, got to create a new menu every six weeks and the waitlist was booked out until Christmas. He told you he loved you every time you paid him a visit, on your lunch break, a whisper between a kiss hello and goodbye in the kitchen, coy whistles from his staff that he burned pink at. 

And when you both drove back to Hawkins for long weekends and holiday stays, you crammed yourselves and Basil into your old apartment with Wayne, packed his freezer full of food and tried to convince him to take in one (maybe two) of the strays from the trailer park to keep him company. 

You spent the Fourth of July with the diner crew, in the backyard of Jim and Joyce’s new home, sharing Polaroids and newspaper clippings of the restaurant, of your new home, Eddie’s menu. Steve was in awe but nothing could beat the look of pride on your boyfriend’s face when Steve told him he’d mastered a French omelette. Argyle was running the kitchen, Nancy had been promoted to assistant manager, part time or not, and Robin had helped Jonathan in running a Sunday morning coffee club, where Hawkins residents got to taste test new bean flavours over a pastry breakfast and some town gossip. 

Eddie didn’t scowl much, not anymore. 

And when you next bumped into Chrissy, you waved at her from under the tuck of Eddie’s arm, diamond ring glinting on your left hand in the sun. She didn’t have much to say to you, not after that. 

[baby-yongbok]

Fan Fiction

Skz/ Dom!Bang Chan x Sub!afab reader - Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI!

✨Masterlist ✨

Word Count: 5,257

Tags: Dom/Sub dynamics, penatrative sex, degradation, unprotected sex, teasing, overstimulation, breath play (mild), oral sex ( f & m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms (reader), breeding??, creampie, established relationship, after care.

(Sorry if I missed any tags)

Notes: This is my first ever Skz AU, and I'm nervous but excited to share. Please be nice! Also, i posted this from my phone, so I'm sorry if the formatting is odd or anything. I'm kinda new to posting on here.

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to reflect or portray any of the members in real life!

I do not own the picture attached, credit to the owner. (Found on pinterest)

You woke up in a panic as your eyes searched for the glowing numbers on your alarm clock. As your vision became less blurry, you realized that it was still Sunday and you didn't sleep in and nearly miss work. Thank goodness. You've been trying to get rest whenever you could as of late. Your job was draining you beyond belief, and you had very little things that could help you relax, especially since Chan was always busy with work. You laid still for a while, staring up at the ceiling and pondering the possibilities… What could you do? How could you relax?

Without coming to a full thought you decide to pull yourself out of bed. Your naked feet felt cold against the hardwood and Goosebumps covered your naked legs. Chan always kept the air conditioner at 63 degrees and if you ever changed it he'd lose his mind. You pulled your feet lazily across the floor and let out a big yawn and stretch, stumbling a bit as you became lightheaded. Once you were steady you continued on your mindless journey to Chan's studio. The door was closed as always and you could hear a beat blaring from the speakers. Chan didn't like to be interrupted while he was mixing and told you to only knock if it were an emergency. You stood at the door mulling over your thoughts trying to think of the exact reason that you were going to knock on the door but nothing came to mind.

Fuck it.

You lifted your hand to knock but swiftly stopped once you heard the music on the other side stop. You took a step back with furrowed brows as you figured he was probably editing a section of the track. To your surprise the door swung open and your fiance towered over you as he took in the sight before him. You stood there clad in one of his t- shirts and pink lace panties as you stared up at him.

"I had a feeling you were out here. What're you doing? Eavesdropping? " a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as he took a step forward to lace his strong arm around your waist and pull you into him.

"I wanted to see you but I heard you mixing so I just kinda… stood here. " Your sleepy brain spilled the truth immediately since you didn't feel the need to hide from him.

"You're always welcome into the studio, love." Your arms snaked around his waist as you hugged him sinking into his toned torso. " Well, I know I told you I don't like being interrupted but still, I always want to see my baby."

"I just woke up and I just… I don't know what to do with myself. It's only six o'clock and I'm just bored." With a sigh you loosen your grip around his waist.

"Hm, how about this, I'll finish mixing this song and then we can do something. Maybe order some take out? Play a board game? Whatever you'd like." Your big eyes glance up to him looking down at you with a sweet smile.

"How long until you're done?"

"Uh, give me thirty minutes, okay?" With another long sigh you let go of your fiancé completely.

"Okay." With a mumbled 'thank you' leaving his lips he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before letting you go and watching you as you slowly stalked back into your shared bedroom. You figure that you'll just spend the next thirty minutes scrolling through your phone looking at TikTok or something while you wait for Chan to finish up. That was until you accidentally pressed the Tumblr app on your phone and your old Stay account lit up your screen.

Oh

You had forgotten about your account, ever since the world blessed you with actually meeting, dating and now being engaged to your bias you didn't see any use for it. Of course you were still a fan but you see the boys as your ordinary friends now instead of world famous idols. Even with this logic fresh in your mind your finger began to scroll and you ended up getting lost in what used to be your world.

It's been two hours and Chan is still mixing. Usually this would bother you but you were too immersed in your virtual world to care. You were going back into your likes and reading all of the disgustingly sexy fan fictions that you liked three years ago. Some about Felix and Hyunjin but most of them about your fiancé.

You sat straight up when you came across the one. That one fan fiction that you used to go back to every time you needed that sweet release. Everytime you wanted to pretend that your fingers were Chan's, long before you knew what it actually felt like. Your excited fingers quickly pressed 'Keep Reading' as your eyes scanned the screen and arousal pools at your core. You read for what felt like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes. God did you love this fic. It was your dream till this day to get fucked like that by Chan. Rough and unrelenting. Forceful and Primal. You knew he was capable of doing it but only if you asked and God knows that you were way too shy to do that. In your day dreamy haze you decided to send the fan fiction to yourself so that you could have easy access to it instead of scrolling all the way down your likes every time you wanted to read it. You hit share and then sent it to yourself on messenger. It took a matter of seconds to pass and for you to come out of your daydream to realize that you were thinking of Chan so much that you sent it to him. Your heart dropped into your ass and you swear that your brown skin turned bright red with embarrassment. What do you do? How do you come back from this?

You weren't thinking straight, I mean how could you? You just sent your fiance a smutty fanfiction about him. You weren't thinking, you couldn't, you felt dizzy with the pressure that was building up in your head. You thought that maybe you could stop him from seeing it. You opened messenger and tried to unsend it but it only gave you the option to unsend for yourself. It was then when your worst nightmare came true. Chan's small profile picture on the side dropped down to the message indicating that he had seen it. Your heart stopped or at least you think it did. What were you supposed to tell him? Yes, he knew you were a fan when he got with you but you felt like exposing him to your fangirl world would make him look at you like just that, a fan.

You decided to wait. You weren't even worried about being bored anymore because your imagination had been keeping you very very entertained not to mention on edge. You kept wondering if Chan read the fanfiction or if he just looked at it and laughed before starting to work again. Did he love you any less for sending him fan made work? Or maybe he loves you less for even looking at it. Either way you were pretty sure that you were doomed.

"Alright, I know that, that was way more than thirty minutes and I'm so fucking sorry about that. I just wanted the track to be perfect." You jump at the sound of Chan's voice as he makes his way over to you on the bed and sits down pulling your legs into his lap. "We could still order take out, you must be starving."

He smiles over at you and you know that you must look like a deer caught in headlights with how big your eyes are, yet he says nothing. His smile is unwavering and you can't fathom why. Didn't he see what you sent him? Isn't he disgusted?

"So…? Thai or maybe Italian? We haven't had that in awhile." Chan pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through uber eats mindlessly. "Chicken?"

You decide to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. If he doesn't say anything about it than fuck it neither will you. Forcing a smile onto your face you try to scoot closer to him and get comfortable. He swiftly welcomes you into his arms and pulls you into his lap so that you can browse together.

"Chicken sounds good but now you got me wanting Italian." You add with a playful forced smile.

"Italian it is, mama." You freeze for a second staring over at your fiancé as he picks an Italian restaurant to order from. He never calls you that, why would he call you that? Are you overreacting? Maybe he just wanted to try something new.

"Do you want your usual?" He asks looking up at you and catching your confused gaze. "Are you alright? "

"Yeah… I'm, uh, fine." No. You were not fine. That was a big fat lie. You were confused but mostly turned on by the new term of endearment. You slowly pressed your thighs together as you heard it echo through your head. The fan fics you read earlier weren't helping either, you were already hot and bothered as it is then he goes and calls you that?

"So, your usual?" You nod your head yes and continue to let your mind race.

"Alright, it'll be here in 25 minutes. Do you wanna watch a movie or something while we wait?" You shrug mindlessly, staring past Chan's face. "Hey, are you alright? You seem off, baby."

Straightening up and looking down at him you smile and try your best to get out of your head, and that nearly works before Chan puts his hand on the back of your neck rubbing his finger along the soft sensitive skin on the side of your neck. "I'm okay" you choke out as the feeling of his big hand on your neck sends chills down your spine.

"Alright, well I'm here if you want to talk, mama." There he goes again. You press your thighs together quickly before getting up off of his lap.

"Let's watch TV, yeah?" Chan smiles over at you as he quickly and nonchalantly scans your entire body taking in your bare legs and lace covered core.

"Sounds good, baby."

The food came and went quickly since the two of you were hungrier than you realized. You watched various random television shows and finished the end of a movie that Chan swears used to be his favorite. The two of you decided to pack it in maybe fifteen minutes ago. You've already showered and changed into a more comfortable cotton pair of red panties and another one of your fiance's shirts. You slid into bed and stared up at the ceiling as you waited on Chan to finish up his shower. You had pretty much forgotten about today's fuck up since he hadn't brought it up to you. It also helped to distract yourself with TV and food but there was still a lingering feeling deep in your chest. Something was off, you just didn't know what. You had noticed that he was extra attentive while the two of you spent time together. He made continuous eye contact that you couldn't seem to keep up with and his hand kept finding its way to the back of your neck. Not to mention that damned name he kept calling you.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You sat up to ask Chan how his shower was but instantly went dry at the mouth when you took in the sight in front of you. His dark hair was wet, some strands sticking to his forehead. He was shirtless with nothing but Grey sweatpants on and bare feet.

Holy fuck

You couldn't help but to stare, how could you do anything else with a man like that in front of you. The three years that you've spent together should have prepared you to see him like this. Hell, you've seen all of this man and probably know him better than he knows himself but there was something about the way that he looked right now that just threw you off. It almost felt familiar to you, you just couldn't put a finger on it.

"Do you work tomorrow, baby?" He asked as he looked over at you from under the towel he was using to dry his hair.

"Uh, yeah I do." You could barely get that sentence out as your eyes locked with his. There was a particular gleam in his eye that you didn't quite recognize but you knew he was up to something.

"Hm, I better make this quick then. It would be irresponsible of me to keep you up all night." He throws the towel he was using over to the hamper and starts to slowly stalk over to the bed. "Don't you think so, mama?"

Your brain went to mush instantly as you took in his dark tone and even darker eyes. It was at this moment that you were sure he read it. Everything clicked for you now. The name, the touches, even his outfit, it all came from that one fanfiction.

He crawled onto the bed and over to you slowly like a lion hunting its prey. In an instant he was on top of you. Looking down at you with his burning brown eyes. You couldn't help but to look away and over to the side but that was no use. You felt as his hand slowly snaked up your body and his thumb and pointer finger rested on your chin turning your head to face him.

"What is it? Is my little kitty shy?" You pushed your thighs together involuntarily. "It's just me baby, don't worry, I'm going to take such good care of you. "

"Chan I-" He lifted his finger to stop you from talking.

"What's my name baby?" His tone was dark and demanding as he stared down at you. Dropping down to his forearm next to your head he moved in to whisper into your ear. "I want you to call me by my name when I ruin you."

You were breathless and paralyzed. You racked your brain for the right answer even though you knew exactly what it was. You've called him by his name before so why should this be any different? Why was this so different?

"Chris - Christopher." A dark chuckle left his lips as he lifted himself up to look into your eyes again.

"That's my girl." Turning your head to the side with one finger he wasted no time littering kisses and love bites all over the exposed skin milking small moans from your lips as you desperately pressed your thighs together. "So you want me to break you, huh? "

You freeze as you realize that he's reciting lines from the very fanfiction that you accidentally sent him.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, mama?" He lightly bites at your collarbone before licking up your neck and planting a kiss behind your ear.

"I can do that." His right hand snakes down your body, his nails digging in lightly as he makes his way to your clothed heat. "Oh, baby"

He harshly but slowly rubs on your clothed core taking in the wetness seeping through your panties.

"You're fucking soaked." His eyes burn into yours as he rubs you over your underwear. You try your best to maintain eye contact but you can't help but to let your eyelids flutter shut every time he caresses your clit. "Eyes on me, mama"

You force your eyes open and look up at Chris as he rubs tight circles around your clit using your arousal as lube against your panties. "Let me hear you."

It wasn't until then that you realized that you had been holding your breath. With a shaky sigh you let out a moan and then you just can't stop. The moans just kept falling from your lips and the sound only encouraged Chris to do more. Before you know it he's moved your panties to the side and is tracing lines up and down your slick cunt. He barely touches your clit as he tries to build you up as high as he can. The higher he can get you the harder the crash will be.

"You want to see what you do to me, Jagi?" You frantically nod in response earning a smile from Chris. He pulls his hand away from your core painfully slowly and sits up on his knees straddling you. In one swift motion he dips his sweatpants down and lets his thick cock free from its restraint. You've seen it a million times but right now it feels new. "Look at how hard you've got Daddy's dick."

A moan fell from your lips at the sound of his filthy words. He was always good at dirty talk but this was different. He was playing out a written fantasy right now and your pussy just couldn't take it.

"Chris, please." He looked down at you with furrowed brows as you begged.

"Please what, mama?" He asked as he began pumping his length slowly, teasingly.

"Fuck" you moaned at the sound and the sight in front of you. "Fuck me, please." A chuckle fell from his lips as he watched you squirm under him.

"You're so needy, baby." You groaned at him in frustration. Was he really going to tease you? He was already basically acting out a fanfiction right in front of you. Did he have to add the teasing? You rolled your eyes at him instinctively. You found yourself doing that a lot and usually he thought it was cute but today was different. You watched as his free hand dipped down and grabbed your face and he stared down at you silently for what felt like hours but were merely seconds.

"Did you just roll your fucking eyes at me?" He got off of you while keeping a firm grip on your face. "Someone needs to be put in their place.

Without another word he roughly guided you over to his exposed length and tapped the head of his cock on your red lips. "Open your mouth and suck this dick."

You were taken aback to say the least. Chan was the type of guy who was more of a soft dom and didn't demand you to do much, especially not in such a dark domineering tone. You couldn't stop yourself even if you tried. It's like a button was pressed and your mouth was open, your tongue out and ready to taste your fiancé. He smiled down at you and slowly slid his cock into your mouth filling you up to the hilt. His head fell back in euphoria and he hissed a curse into the air.

You bobbed your head slowly at first trying to get him used to the sensation of your mouth around him but clearly he had other plans.

"Come on, you can do better than that." Both of his hands found their way into your curly hair and gripped the root making sure to not pull too hard. He began guiding you and moving your head faster and faster each time you came up from the hilt. It wasn't long before you began to gag around him with every stroke, your eyes watering from the choking.

"Fuck, Mamas, that mouth is filthy." You looked up at him with your big watering eyes as he looked down at you with his dark ones. You wanted to make him feel good but right now his rough nature was making you weak for him. Could it be possible that you feel better than he does right now? Having your mouth be used for his pleasure could be the very thing that drives you over the edge.

He continued to guide your head up and down his shaft until he suddenly stopped. Pushing your head down to swallow him completely. He forced you to stay in place temporarily, cutting off your air supply and making you gag and choke around him.

"Be good, slut, take it." Your eyes began to water, tears flowing down your cheeks. He pulled you up off of him, completely freeing his cock from your mouth. You gasped as he watched you intently paying attention to your body language.

"What's your color?" You had almost forgotten about the Stoplight system that Chris put in place as safe words for you. You were too focused on your pleasure and his to remember much else.

"Green" He smiles down at you before taking one hand out of your hair and grabbing the back of your neck.

"Good" He sinks his cock back into your throat as he holds you down once again cutting off your air supply " You're such a good hole"

His moans and growls are what keep you going as you gag around him. He pulls you off once again before pushing you back onto the bed. You gasp at the sudden change as he grabs your ankles and pulls your ass to the edge of the bed. Wrapping your legs around him he leans down to finally kiss your wet lips. The kiss was passionate and rough like it was meant to mark you. This was the kiss of a man who wanted you to know who you belong to. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip asking for access that you gladly granted. His tongue explored your mouth. He tasted of sweet spearmint and the smell of his pheromones filled your nostrils. You hadn't even realized that you began grinding your clothed core on his exposed cock until he bit your lip with a hiss warning you to stop, but you couldn't. You needed him, you were desperate to feel him. If anything his warning only made you grind harder and faster against him. The feeling of his cockhead grinding against your clit was euphoric and you only wanted more as time went on.

"Naughty little toy." Chris growled as he broke the kiss. "If it's my dick that you want then that's what you're gonna get."

Grabbing the back of your thighs Chris swiftly picked you up and turned you both around so that you were against the wall. Your legs tightened around him as you squealed. You've done this position once or twice but it's been so long.

"I'm going to make you fall apart on my cock, mama." He buried himself into the crook of your neck being much rougher this time. He bites at the skin leaving marks that you're sure you'll have to cover up in the morning. He growled into your ear making you moan as you tried your best to grind against him. The both of you were growing impatient but you knew you couldn't move until Chris did.

Finally, he moves your panties to the side and teases your entrance with his cock. "Please, Chris, I need you so badly baby. Ruin me, please." A groan leaves his lips as he looks into your pleading eyes.

"You sound so pathetic, baby. You want to be fucked?" He slips his cock into you faster than he usually does but slow enough to allow you to adjust. "Here you go, kitty."

You cry out instantly moaning his name like your life depended on it. He bounced you on his cock picking up the pace with every stroke. He growled curse words in your ear every time you took him all the way, your walls tightening at the sensation.

"Shit, baby, you're so tight around me." Your head fell back against the wall in pure bliss. "Tell me you like it, let me hear you."

"You feel so fucking good Chris. You fuck me so good." Your praise only made him pick up the pace, turning your moans into gaspy screams.

"Fuck, oh my god, Chris… yes, please, yes. " Words mindlessly fell from your mouth as he pounded into you. Sweat dripping from his forehead as he fucked you senseless just as he promised.

"That's it, take it baby." His cock was hitting just the right spot and he stretched you out perfectly. The fact that this position felt so new to you didn't help to contain the arousal brimming over and spilling from your pussy. You felt a knot in your stomach and your toes started to burn as you got closer and closer to your release. That's when he said the magic words.

"Don't you dare fucking cum." The words came out as a breathy growl. It wasn't a demand this time, it was a threat. You whined as you tried your best to contain your growing orgasm but it just kept creeping up on you.

"Please, let me cum, Please Daddy I'm so close." He groaned at you calling him daddy, something he loved but would never admit to anyone else.

"Don't you dare." He growled again, making you whine. You tried, you really did but you just couldn't contain it. Your pussy clenched around him sucking him in like a vacuum and that's when he knew. " Y/N, don't you fucking cum"

That's all he had to say to throw you over the edge. The way he said your name with that darkness lingering on his tongue sent a shock straight to your clit. You couldn't stop it, you tried so hard but you couldn't stop. Your legs shook around him as your orgasm came crashing down. He didn't stop fucking you he only picked up the pace once he realized that you had cum. His thrusts were shorter and harder, he was punishing you.

"Oh, you've done it now." He fucked into you like he hadn't had sex in years. He'd gone feral for you and all you could do was cry out as your sensitive cunt got abused by his cock. To add fuel to the fire he snaked one of his hands in between the two of you to rub your sensitive clit as he pounded into you throwing you into an overstimulation spiral.

"Chris I- I can't take it." Tears welled up in your eyes as he made you feel so painfully good. It was so much but somehow you found yourself wanting more.

"Find a way to." Was all he said as he continued to abuse your aching cunt. "You should've listened."

His strokes were getting sloppier and his moans were getting louder as he felt you clench around him desperately. The knot in your core building up again.

"I'm going to fill you up so good." He moaned into your ear as his orgasm creeped up his spine. "Fuck, yes, I'm cumming baby. "

Just like that you felt Chan's warm sticky cum coat your walls. The same walls that were now sore and desperate for release again.

"Yes, thank you, daddy. Thank you." He fucked his cum into with a few more pumps before turning and laying you back onto the bed. You both panted, trying your best to catch your breath. You were in a daze, a happy cum drunk daze. You couldn't believe that he actually did what was in that fanfiction but God you were grateful.

"So, you want to be a disobedient whore, huh?" Your eyes shoot open as your fiancé's dark tone catches your attention. "You needed to cum, right?"

You slowly shake your head yes and a knowing smile is painted on Chan's face. "Then here." His hand pops against your pussy spanking it as his cum drips from your wet hole.

"Cum again." Chris drops to his knees teasingly slow and pulls you closer to him by your thighs.

"Chris I- .. Fuck." Before you can finish your sentence his tongue runs a hot stripe up your cunt. He groans as he tastes both you and himself in the mixture of arousal. "Oh my gosh"

He continues to lick and taste you wrapping his lips around your swollen and sensitive clit. His tongue flicks at the nub with slow and firm pressure keeping up his rhythm as he circles your clit. You turn into a hip bucking mess at the amount of pleasure you are feeling right now. It's so much but you want more. Your hands find a home in Chris' wet hair as you start to grind into his mouth. He hums his approval in response as he moves his head back and forth to give you more friction, the perfect formula. You feel your orgasm creep up your legs and it's moving faster and stronger than any one you've ever had before. Your vision goes dark and the grip you have on Chris' hair tightens as you scream for him.

"Fuck, Chris, I'm cumming." Your high washes over you like a storm. Your body shaking against his mouth as he continues to fuck you with his tongue helping you ride out your orgasm. High pitched moans leave your lips and you struggle against his tongue as it continues to taste you. Your vision starts to go white when he finally lets go of his hold over you.

"Such a greedy slut." Chris chuckles as you try your best to catch your breath.

"Are you alright? " He asks as he pulls up his sweatpants and plops down next to you pulling you into his arms. "Take it slow, in and out, baby. "

"I- I'm fine" you finally get out in a breathy reply.

"Good, you were amazing, Jagi" He pulls you into a tight hug and you turn to put your leg over his body as you finally find a comfortable breathing rhythm.

"You were better." Chris smiles down at you with knowing eyes.

"Well, you have your little fan fiction to thank for that. I would've never been that rough with you otherwise. I didn't realize that you like being bossed around so much. " A blush creeps up on your cheeks as you hide your face at the mention of the fanfiction. You had almost forgotten about it.

"I'm so embarrassed. I never meant to send you that."

"Hey, don't be embarrassed." He lifts your chin so that your eyes meet his. "I'm glad you accidentally sent it to me. I want to please you in every way that I can and if you want it a little rougher in the bedroom that's fine. I can do that for you. I'm happy to please you, Y/N"

"Did you enjoy it too?" Chris laughs with a wide smile and nods his head.

"Hell yeah I did. You felt amazing and I really liked topping you like that."

"Good" You say with a blush.

"Okay, well, it's one in the morning so we need to get some sleep but first I know you've gotta be thirsty."

"Yeah, my throat is pretty dry."

"Great, I'll get us some water before round two." With a smile Chris jumps up out of bed and jogs out of the room and down to the kitchen leaving you yelling behind him.

"What do you mean round two?!" You plop your head down on the bed and sigh with a smile. "This fan fiction has created a monster

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (5/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Charles trying to help may be not really helping at all.

Warnings: fighting, Charles is stupid, Google translated French

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I wrote this wine drunk and at like 2am. I'm sorry in advance. Feedback is still appreciated. love y'all

The last time you froze like you did at that exact moment was when you were about to cross the crosswalk and a car almost flattened you because the driver didn't see you. You were staring ahead, holding your breath. Your heart had skipped a few beats.

Only now there is no road in front of you, with moving cars and a bicyclist worrying and asking if everything is okay with you (you were just scared, everything was fine).

Now Charles is standing in front of you. With your phone to his ear. 

"Allô?" His green eyes gleam in the daylight streaming through the kitchen windows, resting on you as your heart skips a few beats before it starts to race. 

Your hand clings to the poor potato as if it were a buoy keeping you afloat. You can't take your eyes off your roommate. 

"C'est sa colocataire,“ Charles says. "Et à qui je parle?“ this is her roomate. and who am I talking to?

You feel yourself crushing the potato in your hand, but you can't manage to loosen your grip. It spills out from between your fingers and crumbles onto the countertop, but you can't think about cleaning it up right now. Your nerves are on edge, your head is empty. 

Charles speaks something into the phone, but you don't understand a word. His voice sounds as if through absorbent cotton, as if he were standing far away from you. You look at him, transfixed, as he holds your cell phone in his hand as if it were his own. 

He takes it from his ear and presses the red button before putting it back in the place from where he had taken it. This time it lies on the screen between the two of you on the kitchen counter. 

"'He shouldn't be bothering you anymore now,'" he says, reaching again for the knife lying next to the salmon. A gentle smile has formed on his face. 

Charles smiles. Why is he smiling? He has no reason to. None at all. 

Your petrification dissolves abruptly and you have to restrain yourself from throwing the mashed potato at his stupid head or pressing his face into the salmon.

How dare he just answer your phone? And especially when he calls? Who does he think he is anyway?

You didn't answer the phone for a reason. Never again did you want to exchange a word with him. At some point he would have already given up, wouldn't have tried to contact you anymore, and then he would have simply disappeared from your life.

But Charles took his call. Without knowing what the consequences would be. 

He calmly works on the salmon on the kitchen board in front of him, still a smile on his face, and he hums along to the music that started automatically after he ended the call. It's a quiet song.

The complete opposite of what's going on inside you right now. 

You'd love to grab Charles by the back of the head and slam his face into the wall, but of course you don't. You could also take the kitchen towel hanging on the side of the countertop and hit him with it, but you don't do that either. 

You could also yell at him. Tell him that he has no right to just answer your phone and interfere in your business. You could yell at him and try to somehow make him understand that this is a private matter and that you actually agreed that private things are private as long as the person doesn't want to talk about it. 

You could throw all that at him. But when you open your mouth, not a peep comes out. 

Would it be wise to yell at your roommate? The roommate who just stood up for you and made sure you got your already paid rent refunded? The one who lets you stay in his apartment for free without particularly asking much of you in return?

The way Charles smiles and hums the melody of the song, he actually believes that he just did the right thing. Does he always stand up for his friends like that? Or rather, does he always interfere in the affairs of others to make the situation better, only to make it worse with his actions? 

You breathe silently as your heart tries to return to its old rhythm. You carefully place the potato from your hand on the board in front of you and wipe off the remains with a kitchen towel. 

"Can you take over for a minute?" you try to say as casually as possible. Your voice croaks like an old door that hasn't been opened in ages, but Charles doesn't seem to register it. "I'll be right back."

As quickly as you can, yet as slowly as you can without seeming rushed, you disappear from the kitchen and search for the restroom, which is thankfully two doors down. You lock the door behind you and sit down on the toilet lid with trembling knees, then rest your head in your hands. 

And then the tears start to flow.

Never in your life have you been so overwhelmed. You've lost your job and are in the process of looking for a new one, only to find that there isn't one that suits you. Your boyfriend has dumped you, but he still won't leave you alone. And never in your life did you expect a roommate who, while sticking up for you, also interferes in your affairs as if you've known each other forever and as if he knows you so well that he knows what's good for you. 

How are you supposed to handle a situation like that?

There's nothing you can do about the job thing. Apparently no agency is looking for a photographer right now. You can only be glad that - thanks to Charles' efforts - you have enough money to keep your head above water for a while. 

You have a lot to thank your roommate for. 

First, you'll get your rent back. So you don't have to worry about money for the time being and you can look for a job that suits you and is not a last resort. 

Secondly, you do not have to pay rent in the future. According to him, the apartment is paid off and since he refuses to take your money, you can save money. Although you will still have to pay the running costs, you will share them and this would also remove another big financial burden. 

Charles has stood up for you even though you expected nothing of the sort. Especially not after the emotional state he displayed on the car ride. He had been so emotionless, so cold, but as soon as Joris had opened the door, he had been a changed man. Friendly and warm and kind. 

And then he just answers your phone. Invades your privacy without asking your permission. 

He clearly crossed a line, even if he didn't mean to or even realize it. He probably only meant well, after all, he realized how much the call upset you this morning and showed you his secret place as a result. As your friend, he probably just wants to make sure you're okay. And there is most likely no evil thought behind his action.

But the tears on your cheeks still don't subside. 

You wipe your eyes with the ball of your hand and thank all the gods that you didn't put on any mascara this morning. Your eyes are slightly red as you look at yourself in the mirror above the sink and splash some water on your face to cool your hot skin a bit. 

You decide against confronting Charles. After all, he only means well and he's already done so much for you in the space of half a day without you really knowing each other. And he expects nothing in return except your friendship. 

He has crossed the line. You decide to move the boundary line back a little. 

As you head back to the kitchen, Charles and Joris are setting the table. The potatoes are boiling in the pot, the salmon is in a casserole dish in the oven, and briefly you wonder how much time you spent in the bathroom. 

"Are you okay?" Charles' voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Judging by his expression, he's noticed your slightly reddened eyes, because he's raised an eyebrow and doesn't avert his gaze from you. 

You smile weakly at him. "It's all right."

The three of you sit down at the table and you almost feel sick because the two boys are devouring their food so fast. You've barely taken two bites of your salmon and chopped up a potato when they're already going back for seconds.

Joris talks about his phone call offering him a job, and Charles tells you about his plans to visit his family soon and spend the holidays with them. You hold back, preferring to listen to the two of them. After all, you don't have much to talk about either. 

Charles doesn't know you're unemployed, and you definitely wouldn't tell him that over lunch with your (former) landlord. And certainly not after you've just been crying in the bathroom. 

"What are you doing for Christmas anyway, Y/N?" Jori's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Two pairs of eyes rest on you, and you look nervously from one to the other. "Are you going to visit your family?"

You take a sip of your Coke to stall for time a la Joris, then poke at your food. "I'm, um. no. I'm staying home," you answer him, your gaze by now firmly fixed on the potatoes on your plate. The silence that surrounds you seems somehow tense, but unfortunately there's nothing you can do to change that.

"If you like, you're more than welcome to come with me to my family's house," Charles tries to lighten the situation, and even though the offer isn't meant seriously, you're very grateful for it. "My mom always makes way too much food anyway. One more or less person doesn't make a difference."

Joris drops his fork on his plate and crosses his arms in front of his chest in a huff. "And I thought I was the only one of your friends who got to spend Christmas with your family." You can tell by the twitching corners of his mouth that he's not serious. 

"You drank three bottles of wine last time and then threw up in the front yard," Charles laughs. 

Joris reaches for the serving tray lying next to his plate and crumples it up, only to throw it at his buddy's head. "Who put those bottles on me?"

Watching the two of them argue - lovingly - softens your heart. While you know Charles is incredibly nice, the way he treats his longtime friend - so appreciative, even though he just sublet his apartment - makes your heart beat a little faster. 

There's no way you'd risk losing your friendship with Charles by bringing up the phone call to him. 

An hour later, Joris closes the apartment door behind you, and with bellies full, you make your way to your car. Charles lets the key twirl on his index finger as he happily whistles a tune you don't recognize. 

He unlocks the car and after you get in, he turns to you. "What's wrong?"

Confused, you look at him. "What's supposed to be going on?"

Your roommate tilts his head. "You were crying in the bathroom. Why?"

You run a hand through your hair before reaching for your seatbelt. "It's already taken care of. It's all fine." You raise an eyebrow, and your gaze flickers briefly to the key in Charles' hand, indicating he can drive off. But he doesn't move a bit. 

"It's not fine, Y/N. Why were you crying?" He makes no move to look ahead. Instead, he turns his whole body toward you and pulls his right knee up onto the seat. 

"I'm fine. Seriously." You try to back up your words with a nod. "The situation has cleared up."

Your roommate doesn't believe a word you say. "So there is something bothering you after all. What's going on?"

Why won't he let up? You've assured him twice that everything is fine. Why does he keep insisting on an answer you clearly don't want to give him? 

You furrow your eyebrows. "Charles," your tone is sharp and no longer too friendly. Annoyed, you look at him. "It's all okay. Can we drop the subject now?"

You don't want to argue with him, at least you have no reason to. You have decided not to be angry with him about the phone call. Therefore, there is no reason why you should tell him about it. 

"Didn't we agree that we would communicate openly with each other? That I wouldn't have to ask five times what was going on with you before you explained what it was all about?"

You decided to push back the boundary line. It was your decision alone. But for him to use your deal against you now makes you want to burst with anger. 

How dare he?

"Didn't we also agree that private things are private as long as you don't want to talk about them?" You cross your arms in front of your chest. "In case you didn't catch it, I didn't take that call this morning, and if you didn't already figure it out, there were certainly reasons for it. After all, you won't have just brought me to your favorite place for no reason."

Charles opens his mouth to say something back, but you don't let him get a word in edgewise. "You've noticed that the phone call this morning and also just now got to me. So where did you get the idea to just answer my phone? What were you thinking?"

As you stare at him and exhale loudly, Charles takes this as his chance to answer you. "I wanted that guy to stop bothering you. Of course, I noticed how you were feeling about it. And I didn't want you to have to go through that again." He holds his hands in front of him, palms up. "Jeez, Y/N. I was worried about you. You looked like a frozen deer about to get hit by a car both times. I didn't even see you like that when I was suddenly standing in the apartment last night. You would have punched me there, but apparently this guy puts you out of order with just one phone call. And this isn't you."

"You don't even know who I am," you counter. "You've known me for what? Fifteen hours? And you think you know me so well that you assume the right to meddle in my affairs, even though you've noticed that I don't handle it very well myself? If I had wanted you to support me in this, I would have told you about it. But I didn't. And you interfered anyway!"

"Then why don't you say what's on your mind? That you didn't think it was right for me to just answer your phone? Why do I have to ask three times before you finally open your mouth?" Charles' voice has also changed to a shriek. His face is flushed and the vein on his neck is pumping. 

"Because everything is fine!" You rub your forehead with your palm in frustration. "Yeah, I think it sucks that you just butted in. But I also realize you didn't mean any harm and you were trying to help me. That's why I didn't bring it up. Because the issue is already over for me."

Charles clenches his jaw. "It's not over for me. You need to talk to me when something bothers you. When I make mistakes and cross boundaries. How else will I know I've done something wrong?"

"For the love of God, Charles, but that boundary was so clear that even a blind man could have seen it." You put your hands on your thighs. A sign that you're at the end of your rope. "I don't feel like arguing. Can't we just go home and put this behind us?"

Charles doesn't move a bit, but continues to stare at you. "No. We need to talk this out. Otherwise, this isn't going to work." With his index finger, he points to the space between the two of you. 

You exhale loudly and run your hand through your hair. Then you shake your head slightly. The hours you've known Charles have taken such a toll on you, especially mentally and emotionally, that you just want to crawl into your bed and put the day behind you. And the fact that your roommate is blocking the most pleasant way to get there right now - which is for you to drive home quickly in your car - makes you slump down further. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and let it whiz back into place. Charles' eyes widen as you reach for the door handle. "I can't do this." You get out, still hearing Charles say your name before you turn and start walking. 

Maybe this whole thing wasn't such a good idea after all.

next part

[i-yap]

Can I get your thoughts on a gn reader who’s dating Grayson and is like a parent figure or older sibling to Damien, so they have a soft spot for him ( so does Damien ) ?

Dick grayson x gn!y/n x platonic!Damian

this is my first time writing a gn reader so like I'm sorry if I write something stupid or offensive, just comment it and ill fix it.

if you are dating dick then damian will stalk you extensively at first. Dick is his favorite sibling ( in most comics) and if dick is serious about you, stalking is just how the batfam shows love.

He will be rude , he will be mean and sarcastic but dick warned you and you understand where dami's coming from. So you kindly and patiently deal with him and dick obviously doesn't let Dami cross the line when it comes to you.

One night dick had to rush out for a really scary mission and told you to stay at the manor because its the safest place to be.

Damian was the only other person that was left behind since the mission required everyone else on the team and bruce did not think damian was ready for such a high risk mission just yet.

so damian was really frustrated and also worried for the rest of the family. you walk past Dami's room to see him staring off in the distance while fidgeting or biting his nails. You ask alfred for a chess set ( or any other board/card game) and bring it to dami's room. While playing , he opens up about his frustrations and you patiently listen . Not a lot of people in his family are as warm and caring as you are ( maybe dick but even he is really busy)

After that night the roles are reversed. Now damian thinks dick is undeserving of you and his snarky comments are directed to him. You just find it funny while dick is left confused. "I thought he liked me more man, why the sudden switch?" " he got enlightened dickie boy muhahah" " you are mind controlling him arent you"

One-on-one time in the manor- haha dick wishes. So he tries only calling you when dami is at school or training or patrol. ofc you and dami catch on soon which means you and dami chasing him with katanas.

talking about katanas, dami loves showing you his art and his pets and if you share an interest in either of them he gets even more excited.

you and dick become dami's honorary parents. might as well adopt him since bruce and talia are obviously not doing a very good job ( in most comics) .

whenever dami is mad at bruce or simply upset or bored he comes to you and dick's apartment. You and dick are the fun warm loving couple that spend the night playing board games and watching stupid movies . you introduce him to all the major pop culture shows and movies and dick teaches him how to just dance randomly. your apartment is so different from the gloomy , filled with blood stains, fights and training manor. its filled with music and love and warm lights cooking together in funny pjs and dancing badly to pop songs.

it is watching you and dick that dami realizes what love is supposed to look like. and what a normal household looks like( sort of normal) and it affects the way he grows up. I wont be surprised if he comes to you for parents teacher meeting days or to sign his field trips or for advice on normal things

and the canon where dami is being bullied in school, while you go full on protective mode ,dick tries teaching him how to be better in social situations.

overall dami is just counting down days dick marries you and you'all unofficially adopt him.

[daisies-daydreams]

Next Round’s On Me (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Jealous!Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Jealous!F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Drinking, Car Sex, Marshmallow Hell, Breast Play, Cowgirl, Handjobs, Clit Play, Slight Bondage, Mutual Masturbation Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: Part 2 of an anonymous request (original ask linked below).

Next Round’s On Me (König's Version)

You sighed as you rubbed your temples. Your boyfriend, Simon, was currently in the shower. He recently returned from a long mission, his body aching and sore from the intense situations he found himself in. While you were over the moon that Simon returned, you were so swamped with your job that you barely had time to make even a single conversation with him. You jumped when a pair of wet, rough hands slid over your upper arms.

“Didn't mean to scare you, lovie,” Simon chuckled. His soaked, dirty blonde hair fell flat against his forehead, his dark brown eyes focused on your exhaustion-ridden face. You only flapped your hand.

“It’s fine,” you sighed before turning back to the paperwork set before you. You relaxed when you felt him run his fingers through your hair before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“I know you’ve been busy-but I think a break is in order for the both of us,” he suggested as he smoothed his hand over your hair. You glanced up from your work, your cheek resting in your hand. “Besides, gotta celebrate me coming back to you in one piece somehow,” Simon raised his brows. You shook your head as a faint smile traced across your face. He hummed as you spun around in your chair, your hands grasping at his towel as you licked your lips. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he placed his large hands over yours.

“Not quite what I had in mind,” he rumbled.

+++

You swayed along to the sound of the music crashing over the bar. It was fairly late-only a few patrons were floating around as the bartender busied himself with cleaning up the counter. The corner of Simon’s eyes crinkled as he kissed your cheek…forgetting that he was wearing a dark face mask. Both of you chuckled before he pulled the fabric down. You stared at his pink lips as a rush of warmth rushed over you. You closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned forward.

Your eyes snapped open when your phone suddenly rang to life. You sighed and pulled it from your pocket. It was a coworker. You glanced over at Simon and he nodded.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Simon shook his head and squeezed your hand.

“It’s alright, love. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you with a wink. You giggled before slipping out of your booth. A brunette woman eyed you from the bar, her stare dark and territorial. You shook it off as you walked outside and finally answered the call.

It probably only lasted about five minutes. Something about them losing track of what to bring to the next meeting. You went down the list of items before they thanked you and apologized several times. You sighed as you hung up, quick to turn your phone on silent. You looked up at the stars that were sprinkled across the late night sky before heading back inside.

You froze when you saw the woman at the bar now sitting at your booth. Not only that, she was sitting right next to Simon, her legs slightly spread apart as she nibbled on her straw. Simon sat stiff as a board as she kept gabbing into his ear.

“What are you doing after this?” she purred, her eyes raking down his broad chest. You fumed as you stomped over to them. Simon’s eyes remained cold as he avoided her gaze.

“Probably going to have sex with my girlfriend,” he replied with a straight tone. She cackled and threw her head back just as you neared the booth. Your eye twitched as she placed a hand over his tattooed forearm. Simon’s shoulders tensed as he glanced over.

“Silly-you’re looking right at her,” the woman cooed as she brushed her fingers over one of his inky skulls. You crossed your arms and cleared your throat. The woman’s brows knitted together as she turned. Her eyes widened slightly as you raised your brows.

“Care to get out of my seat?” you asked, venom laced in your voice. The woman rolled her eyes as she hesitantly shuffled out of the booth. She shot you a nasty glare, an expression you happily returned. She was out of sight as you turned your attention back to your love.

“My hero,” he chuckled deeply. His voice was husky as his shoulders relaxed. You remained standing at his side of the booth, your legs suddenly pressed together as you felt a twinge of heat stir in your core. Simon tilted his head. “You alright, love?” he asked. His voice sounded even deeper now. Did his muscles always ripple like that? You nodded as you released a hot, shaky breath.

“Uh-huh, just feeling a bit buzzed is all,” you said as you fanned your flushed face. Simon grunted as he checked his watch.

“Gettin’ pretty late. Let’s head on back, yeah?” he said as he nodded towards the door. You licked your lips, lust quickly clouded your mind as you nodded back.

“Y-Yeah,” you blushed as you stepped back for him to get out. Simon glanced down at you, his pupils somewhat dilated as his hand sprawled across your lower back. You gasped, the slight contact sending shivers down your spine. He paid for your drinks before guiding you towards your car. The vehicle beeped across the nearly empty lot as he unlocked it. Your eyes shifted to the back seat as he opened the passenger car door. He laughed when you climbed in the back instead.

“Where you goin’, lovie?” he mused. You wiggled your hips as you sat squarely in the center of the backseat. You avoided his gaze as you puffed your chest out.

“I think I’ll stay back here,” you lilted, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Simon chuckled as he shook his head.

“You’re more smashed than I thought,” he teased. You gasped as you turned towards him. He stepped closer towards you, his covered face inches from yours.

“Or maybe…you’re just being a naughty little minx,” he rumbled as he cupped your chin with his hand. You batted your lashes and parted your lips, his thumb threatening to slip into your mouth. He barely had time to blink before you snatched his mask from his face. Simon clicked his tongue as he watched you crawl as far as you could from him.

“Naughty minx, then,” he huffed with an amused smile. You knew Simon was a smart man-that he’d see through your paper-thin guise. You smirked as he closed the door behind him, the car shaking slightly from the movement of him crawling towards you. His eyes widened as you suddenly pounced on him, swiftly pinning him beneath your thighs. Your pupils grew as your face lingered over his exposed neck, your hot breath fanning over his pulse. You pulled a strained groan from him as you sucked a hickey over his skin, enjoying the slight flavor of his sweat.

The windows were cracked just enough for some air to trickle in as you licked and suckled his flesh. Simon grunted while his hands wandered down to cup your ass. You unlatched your lips from his neck before swallowing his mouth with a sloppy kiss. Your hips sank down as you grinded against his clothed sex, his cock already hardening beneath your ministrations. You finally parted your lips and gasped for air. Both of your chests rose and fell, his hands gently massaging the flesh of your behind.

“Careful now. We could get caught,” he husked into your ear. You bit your bottom lip before tugging at your shirt. Simon seemed to disregard his own warning as you let your breasts spill out from your bra. One of his hands wandered to your hip while the other grazed over your nipple. His grunts were muffled when you shoved his face in between your breasts. He inhaled deeply through his nose as he moved his face back and forth. Your hand gripped the back of his head as he rolled his tongue over your tits, lathering them with his warm spit.

You moaned as you continued to grind your clothed sex over Simon’s growing erection-his cock scorching below you. A jolt of arousal shocked through you as he kneaded your tit with one hand while he latched his lips around your areola. Your hand remained glued to his head as he tugged your nipple between his teeth, his tongue soon smoothing over the pinched nub. He muffled something into your breasts, the vibrations sending small waves of arousal down into your dripping core.

“What was that?” you tilted your head as you loosened your grip on him. Simon leaned his head up and smiled gently, gazing directly into your eyes.

“I said ‘I love you’,” he breathed. You gasped as a wave of warmth crashed over you, your hips coming to a complete halt. Your lips parted as your fingers curled into the back of his neck.

“I-I love you, too,” you sniffed. Simon’s brows knitted as he brushed your cheek with his hand.

“What’s wrong, hun?” he asked. You shook your head as you blinked away a few tears.

“I-I just-” you cut yourself off as you stared down at his abs peeking up from beneath his rustled shirt.

“(Y/N), look at me,” Simon said. You slowly glanced up at him, your bottom lip trembling. Something seemed to click as his eyes widened slightly, though he wanted to hear it from your own lips. You sighed as you pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

“You really mean it?” you asked. Simon leaned back slightly as a frown etched onto his face.

“Of course I do, love,” he assured, his hand falling down to grasp and knead your hip. You nodded and relaxed in his hold. He kissed your temple, allowing you to rest on him. “You realize your tits are still out, right?” he piqued. You rolled your eyes and slapped his shoulder playfully. He chuckled before admiring you shoving your shirt and bra off, your breasts bouncing down as you shifted your hips.

Simon grabbed and massaged them in his hands as you went in for another kiss. He gasped into your mouth as your fingers traced over the outline of his cock from beneath his jeans. You shivered-he was hard as a rock. You kept your lips on his as you undid his button, then his zipper. Simon bucked his hips up slightly as you pulled his boxers down. You looked into his eyes for any sign of discomfort, but all you saw was a man staring at you with a hungry, half-lidded gaze.

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you slid your hand beneath his briefs. You gasped as his cock throbbed beneath the tips of your fingers. His hands tightened around your tits as you pulled his dick out. It nearly smacked against his rough abs as you pulled him free. You plunged your tongue into his mouth, tasting the remnants of smokey liquor.

“Fuck, baby,” Simon groaned as you pumped his erect cock. His hands fell down and dipped below the hem of your pants. You moaned as he pressed his thumb to your clit, his fingers dipping into your slit. “So wet, sweet girl,” he purred. You panted as you roughly squeezed the base of his cock. He cursed beneath his breath as he swiped over your swollen nub, your folds squelching as he spread them with his digits. You were teetering on the precipice of losing control, but soon smirked as you stopped jerking him off. Simon huffed as he stared you down.

“Why’d you-” his words were cut off when you raised yourself. You clumsily shucked off your pants, fishing your panties out. Ghost eyed the article of clothing curiously as you held them with your index finger. His shoulders tensed as you leaned forward.

“I want to ride you, Si,” you moaned into his ear. He shuddered beneath you as he swallowed thickly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned. You took his wrists in your hands, wrapping your panties around them as you kissed along his jaw. “Never seen you this riled up before,” he commented as you placed his now tied hands behind his head. You giggled and nipped at his earlobe.

“I’m just getting started,” you rasped. He groaned in approval before you sank your hips back down. Your pussy lips spread over his cock, smearing your slick across his girth. His back arched as you shifted your hips forward, the car rocking with your subtle movements. You could see him straining against the panties wrapped around his hands as you circled your hips. You keened at the flush tip of his cock slid over your sensitive clit, a bolt of pleasure rushing through you.

“Fuck, lovie-that’s it. Moves your hips just like that,” he panted. You kept a steady pace as you pressed yourself against him, your nipples brushing over his now damp t-shirt. The slick sound of your cunt sliding over his dick made you feel numb to your surroundings, including the night air that seeped in through the cracked windows.

“God, yes,” you cried as your clit caught on his lower abdomen with each movement of your hips. You were sure the car was rocking now with how hungrily you were thrusting against his hard length.

“Fuck, baby. Please, I need to feel your tight cunt around me,” Simon nearly whined. The sound of his desperate tone made you slow your movements. You smashed your lips against his as you angled your hips. His tip kissed against your dripping slit before you slowly sheathing his cock within your tight walls. The stretch was always immense, his dick stuffing and stretching you to the brim. His head rolled back as you buried yourself to the hilt. Both of you shook as your cunt greedily sucked him in. A deep rumble came from his chest as you flexed your cunt around him.

“Fuck,” he drawled out as you kissed up his thick neck. You shuddered as you slowly slid up. A moan left you as you back down on his length, his cock stretching your hole wide open.

The car windows began to fog up as you rocked your hips against him, his cock threatening to split you in two every time you sank back down. You squeezed his shoulders as you bounced on his dick, each stroke sending you closer to falling off the edge. The sound of fabric tearing ripped through the car. Your eyes shot open as your panties lay in tatters behind his head. You whined as Simon’s hands came down to squeeze your hips.

“I’ll get you some new ones,” he husked quickly as he bucked his hips in time with your rocking. You keened as his dick reached up and pounded your cervix, your head falling back and lungs gasping for air.

“Yes!” you cried out as your fingers flexed around his shoulders. One of his hands slid between your sandwiched bodies and rubbed sloppy circles around your puffy bundle of nerves. You emitted a sharp moan as your cunt clenched around him.

“Shit, Si,” you gasped. Your movements became more frantic, his cock slipping through your tight walls as your slick soaked his lap. “Fuck, gonna cum!” you cried out. You shoved your hips down, your mouth opening into a silent scream as your walls convulsed around him. Simon groaned, his cock twitching inside you as your body was wracked with wave after wave of euphoric rapture. Your pussy fluttered around his dick, milking him dry as he filled your pussy with his thick cum.

You rested your forehead on his, your bodies covered in a sheen of sweat as you caught your breath. Your heartbeat slowed as Simon pressed his lips to yours.

“I love you so much,” you murmured. He beamed and kissed your forehead.

“I love you too, hun,” he said softly.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Tag list: @notthatfanfictionwriter

[magerightsmagefights]

SPOILERS FOR BALDURS GATE 3 but I have to talk about this, I wheeze every time I think about it

Ok so I haven’t finished act 3 yet, so I am absolutely taking everything the Emperor says with a grain of salt, but the Emperor’s backstory is just so… breathtakingly funny to me, when compared to my other companions. Especially with how dramatically he was built up—your protector, your mysterious guardian, shielding his true identity because he could see no other choice, now forced to stand before you in his true form. The story itself practically had a flashing neon sign above his head screaming “This character is cool! This character is mysterious! Prepare yourself to receive the COOL and TRAGIC backstory that brought him to this place!”

And he. He was a hedge fund manager. Got that music and flashback sequence with the pained voice, “By night I devoured the brains of criminals. By day I controlled the mercantile groups of Baldurs Gate.” Like sir you invested in various businesses? Or did you like, establish and impose tax regulations upon local and foreign merchants? Because those are both neat, but like, my collection of demonic soldiers held against their will, abused servants/slaves seeking vengeance and Slightly Burdened Hippie Bear are not exactly overwhelmed by this backstory.

Emperor: Such was my influence, I came to be known as the Emperor within the shadows of Baldur’s Gate.

Tav: They… they started calling a business investor ‘the Emperor?’

Emperor: I was very good at business investment.

Tav: So our mysterious guardian was just a vigilante hedge fund manager—

Emperor: Time to talk about Prince Orpheus, immediately.

And then later you’re running through the city and you find his Super Secret Mysterious Hideout, and it’s just… some big tables covered in his notes, yes we will invest in this winery. No we will not invest in those cheeses. Someone is trying to traffic illegal goods here. Let’s create a hostile economic environment for this tavern. And it’s even funnier because he’s hanging out in your brain giving commentary the whole time about how dark and powerful he was, like bro. This is your office. This is the office in which you worked a 9-5 desk job. An executive desk job, granted, but very definitely a desk job.

Emperor: I controlled Baldurs Gate from that super fancy high-backed chair. No coin changed hands in the city without being approved at that giant dramatic table.

Tav: So board meetings.

Emperor: What?

Tav: That giant dramatic table is where you had board meetings.

Emperor: The Knights of the Shield decided what business could or could not take place—

Tav: Yes, a board meeting. You were the chairman of the board. It’s so funny that we have a hermit wizard and a vampire twink who embroiders his own underwear, but the nerdiest one has been hiding out in this magical D20 the whole time.

Emperor: … let’s talk about my mother’s silverware now.

[astrojulia]

Tarot Cards as Professions

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Major Arcanas:

The Fool: Work with abroad, connections with imports, language teacher, multinationals, entrepreneur, intern, college student, art major.

The Magician: Entrepreneur, job that needs skill with the hands (acupuncture, hairdresser, artisan), actor, salesperson, influencer.

The High Priestess: Education, especially children, nutrition, psychology, cook, housewife, food engineering, toy factory, fortuneteller, spiritual advisor, librarian.

The Empress: Management, business administration, foreign trade, secretariat, translation, decoration, stay-at-home mom, model, cook, farmer.

The Emperor: Business administration, work related to areas of technological innovation, the military or sportsmen, CEO, tycoon.

The Hierophant: Philanthropic areas, ONGs, religious work, social work, diplomacy, and a degree, journalism, writer, editor, priest, spiritual guru, politician.

The Lovers: Sales area in any sector, tourism, theater, advertising, the arts in general, porn star, stripper, masseuse.

The Chariot: Activities related to transport, cars, the latest technology, chauffeur, mechanic, athlete.

Strength: Aesthetics, physical education and various body therapies, medicine, zoologist.

The Hermit: Teacher, writer, doctor, antique dealer, restorer, librarian, gardener.

Wheel of Fortune: Financial market, exchange offices, casinos, lottery houses, stock exchanges, and areas related to public relations, hospitality, game show host.

Justice: Public jobs, won through competitions, politics, police, with government positions, in the diplomatic area, law, insurance company worker.

The Hanged Man: Nurse, auditor, inspector, porter, secretariat, general assistants, yoga instructor, prison guard, philanthropist.

Death: Doctor, farmer, geologist, business administrator, gardener, accountant, assassin, death row executioner, surgeon.

Temperance: Working with liquids in general or with what is transported in liquid form such as alcoholic beverages, medicines, juices. chemist, chef, food critic, regional or even international traffic.

The Devil: Does not limit the individual to a professional wing, so he can also go to extremes for the desire he has, such as landlord, drug lord, sex trafficker.

The Tower: Social assistance, humanitarian aid, medicine, firefighter, police officer, construction worker.

The Star: Music, painting, sculpture, poetry, cinema, makeup artist, dressmaker, beautician, agent, promoter, sound artist, astronomer, harpist, dealer, meteorologist.

The Moon: Oceanographers, sailors, fishermen, owners of bars and restaurants or nightclubs, artists in general, medium, hypnotist, psychiatrist.

The Sun: Motivational speaker, entertainer, comedian, social relationships, work with the public, artist in general, member of society.

Judgment: Work done at home, connection with the law, lawyer, judge, work with disabled or people excluded from society, social assistance, board member, executive producer, director.

The World: Pharmacist, massage therapist, scientist, teacher, community leader, religious leader or priest, fashion designer, makeup artist, interior decorator.

Wands:

Creative industries such as advertising, marketing, and graphic design.

Entrepreneurship and starting your own business.

Athletics, sports coaching, or physical training.

Outdoor jobs like park ranger or tour guide.

Event planning or organizing.

Firefighters or rescue workers.

Ace of Wands: Entrepreneur, startup founder, motivational speaker, fitness coach, personal trainer.

Two of Wands: Business strategist, project manager, travel agent, international consultant, import/export specialist.

Three of Wands: Sales representative, marketing manager, e-commerce entrepreneur, market researcher, international trade coordinator.

Four of Wands: Event planner, wedding coordinator, party organizer, festival manager, hospitality industry professional.

Five of Wands: Conflict resolution specialist, mediator, lawyer, debate coach, competitive sports coach.

Six of Wands: Public relations manager, spokesperson, social media influencer, motivational speaker, winning athlete.

Seven of Wands: Defense attorney, human rights activist, political campaigner, advocate, civil liberties lawyer.

Eight of Wands: Courier, delivery driver, airline pilot, travel blogger, expedition guide.

Nine of Wands: Security guard, bodyguard, soldier, endurance athlete, self-defense instructor.

Ten of Wands: Overworked entrepreneur, project manager, event organizer, professional organizer, heavy equipment operator.

Page of Wands: Assistant in a creative field, aspiring artist, intern in a startup, social media coordinator, apprentice.

Knight of Wands: Travel journalist, adventure tour guide, professional athlete, race car driver, stunt performer.

Queen of Wands: CEO, business owner, charismatic leader, life coach, influential speaker.

King of Wands: Executive manager, entrepreneur, leadership coach, consultant, director of a creative agency.

Cups:

Counseling, therapy, or social work.

Hospitality industry, including restaurant management and bartending.

Wedding planner or event coordinator.

Artistic fields like poetry, writing, or acting.

Healing professions such as nursing or holistic therapy.

Psychologist or counselor specializing in emotions and relationships.

Ace of Cups: Therapist, counselor, social worker, holistic healer, emotional support specialist.

Two of Cups: Marriage counselor, matchmaker, relationship coach, wedding planner, love psychic.

Three of Cups: Event organizer, party planner, celebratory event coordinator, community organizer.

Four of Cups: Meditation teacher, mindfulness coach, spiritual counselor, psychologist, therapist.

Five of Cups: Grief counselor, trauma therapist, hospice worker, emotional healing practitioner, bereavement support.

Six of Cups: Child psychologist, teacher, daycare worker, children's book author, pediatric nurse.

Seven of Cups: Creative writer, fantasy novelist, imaginative artist, dream analyst, visionary.

Eight of Cups: Travel blogger, adventure seeker, spiritual pilgrim, explorer, wanderlust photographer.

Nine of Cups: Life coach, happiness consultant, gratitude coach, self-help author, wellness retreat organizer.

Ten of Cups: Family therapist, marriage and family counselor, foster care advocate, wedding planner, family mediator.

Page of Cups: Creative writer, artist in training, intuitive healer, aspiring therapist, dream interpreter.

Knight of Cups: Actor, romantic poet, musician, art therapist, love and relationship coach.

Queen of Cups: Psychic reader, intuitive healer, counselor, compassionate caregiver, therapist.

King of Cups: Therapist, counselor, intuitive mentor, emotional intelligence trainer, psychologist.

Swords:

Legal professions like lawyers, judges, or law enforcement officers.

Journalists, reporters, or investigators.

IT specialists, computer programmers, or hackers.

Teachers or professors specializing in critical thinking or philosophy.

Military or defense-related careers.

Strategic planners or analysts.

Ace of Swords: Lawyer, judge, legal consultant, investigative journalist, strategic planner.

Two of Swords: Mediator, conflict resolution specialist, negotiator, diplomat, relationship counselor.

Three of Swords: Divorce lawyer, grief counselor, trauma therapist, emotional healer, heart surgeon.

Four of Swords: Rest and relaxation specialist, meditation teacher, spiritual retreat organizer, yoga instructor.

Five of Swords: Military strategist, competitive sports coach, lawyer specializing in litigation, debate coach.

Six of Swords: Travel agent, relocation consultant, therapist specializing in transitions, boat captain.

Seven of Swords: Private investigator, spy, intelligence analyst, cybersecurity expert, undercover agent.

Eight of Swords: Social justice lawyer, human rights advocate, disability rights activist, therapist specializing in limiting beliefs.

Nine of Swords: Insomnia specialist, anxiety therapist, nightmare counselor, sleep coach, mental health counselor.

Ten of Swords: Surgeon, coroner, forensic scientist, mortician, grief counselor.

Page of Swords: Researcher, journalist, fact-checker, apprentice in a legal field, investigative reporter.

Knight of Swords: Military officer, police officer, attorney, competitive fencer, conflict resolution specialist.

Queen of Swords: Judge, lawyer, critic, journalist, literary agent.

King of Swords: Judge, attorney, CEO, strategist, military general.

Pentacles:

Financial advisors or investment bankers.

Real estate agents or property developers.

Agriculture, farming, or gardening.

Architects, builders, or construction workers.

Conservationists or environmentalists.

Accountants or bookkeepers.

Ace of Pentacles: Financial advisor, investment banker, wealth manager, entrepreneur, luxury goods retailer.

Two of Pentacles: Financial analyst, accountant, bookkeeper, event planner, stock trader.

Three of Pentacles: Architect, contractor, project manager, teamwork facilitator, craftsman.

Four of Pentacles: Wealth manager, investor, financial planner, asset protection specialist, treasurer.

Five of Pentacles: Social worker, philanthropist, charity organizer, financial counselor, volunteer.

Six of Pentacles: Philanthropist, humanitarian worker, non-profit manager, social worker, charitable fundraiser.

Seven of Pentacles: Gardener, farmer, agricultural consultant, sustainability expert, botanist.

Eight of Pentacles: Craftsperson, artisan, apprentice, skilled tradesperson, technical trainer.

Nine of Pentacles: Luxury brand manager, independent business owner, successful entrepreneur, vineyard owner, art collector.

Ten of Pentacles: Real estate developer, property investor, family business owner, generational wealth manager, financial advisor.

Page of Pentacles: Intern, student, apprentice in a practical field, aspiring entrepreneur, entry-level employee.

Knight of Pentacles: Accountant, financial planner, farmer, skilled tradesperson, meticulous worker.

Queen of Pentacles: CEO, business owner, property developer, hospitality industry entrepreneur, financial advisor.

King of Pentacles: CEO, business mogul, successful investor, high-level executive, financial consultant.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[christinesficrecs]

Also, these gems are still on tumblr for your enjoyment. 🧡💙🧡 here, here, here, and especially this one. Oooh, this one too.

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Derek's a drifter with no home, no destination, and no will to live. Stiles works on his family's failing cattle and horse ranch while all his friends are going off to college. When Derek falls asleep in a random barn, exhausted and half-starved, he doesn't expect to wake up on the other end of the sheriff's shotgun. And Stiles sure as hell doesn't expect his dad to invite the drifter in for breakfast.

no aphrodisiac like loneliness  | 19.7K | Explicit

Stiles is 27 now, with a master’s degree and a career and a house and a serious boyfriend and a life in San Francisco that doesn’t include Derek. But then Stiles unexpectedly shows back up in Beacon Hills, and Derek would recognize that scent anywhere.

[heartlilith]

Drunk Confessional (Personal Astrology Observations)

Here are some of my observations and opinions on various placements while sipping on some dranks ;)))

🍻My Sun, Venus, and Mars are in my 8th house using Whole Sign System and using Placidus I have Moon and Venus in the 8th house. Any other 8th housers especially attracted to what others deem creepy/weird/dangerous? Whether it's people, topics of conversation, music taste, or superstitions. When I talk to my boyfriend about what happens after we die, he WON'T hear it. I got an Ouija board for Christmas one year and he wouldn't summon demons with me :( he's so scared lmfaooo. Also, my boyfriend has been to jail, has face tattoos, and is the embodiment of controversial. Any other 8th housers relate? No? Okay.

🍻Going off of ^^^. I met this girl one time at a ... facility ... and she went by the name Lilith; she's instagram famous, goth, loves witch shit, she's a satanist and basically she was everything that people side eyed. When I tell you I LOVED THIS GIRL. I wish we kept in contact, I swear I had heart eyes and I'm straight af. She was so intriguing and we became such good friends... I miss her. She was an Aries Sun, Aries Moon, Scorpio Rising. The coolest chick.

🍻I have 12th Pluto and Chiron (whole sign) and in the 11th house (Placidus) and I ghost everyone. Most times it's unintentional. Due to some issues at home, I up and left my hometown in the middle of the night to live with my boyfriend a couple states away and the next day my friends were like "Wtf? Where are you?".

🍻Guys I am the queen of running away when things get hard. Even when I was young. I'm not really sure what would indicate this? Maybe Uranus/Neptune in the 1st? 12th house Sagittarius? No clue. I'm a master escapist physcially, mentally, substance-ly ;).

🍻I have never had a "dream job" (Sun and Neptune square MC). All I know is I will be rich. I know it in my heart. I fucking better be.

🍻Actually ^ not true I wanted to be an Astronaut when I was like 5. URANUS IN THE 1ST... I am one with the aliens. This works for Aquarius rising, Uranus/Aquarius Dominant.

🍻Capricorn Rising/Saturn in the 5th house here and for all of you that claim prominent Capricorn placements are boring... let me tell you something... we are busy getting rich so fuck you

🍻I think prominent Earth placements (esp Cap), it's not the materialism that comes with being rich that we want... its the security. Like if life goes wrong in anyway, at least we have the resources to somehow make it better. It's a security blanket. I'd rather be crying in a mansion than crying in a shack. ALSO, most of us know what it's like to grow up poor or below the middle class line.

🍻So my placements - Lilith in the 1st house especially. I'm always reading posts about being sexually wanted or some version of that. Let me tell you I wear sweatpants and sweatshirts most of the time. That profile pic over there? Yeah I don't look like that most days. I feel like since this placement gets sexualized a lot and gets exposed sexually at a young age ... it results in this. Male attention? I used to need that, now I hate men (at least most of them). Scorpio MC and Lilith in Capricorn too.

🍻Scorpio MC - yes I want to be feared. I want to hold power over people that makes them think twice about fucking with me. But not feared in a way that they think I'm mean or rude... feared as in powerful, like a boss type of way. In reality, I run from confrontation and am too scared to stick up for myself but WE ARE WORKING ON IT. Check back in 10 years. I feel like Sun/Lilith in the 10th house, prominent Capricorn placements, prominent Scorpio placements, Aries placements, and Leo placements feel this too.

🍻I have Mars in the 7th house and in terms of romantic relationships, yes I am the problem.

🍻Aries in the 3rd house and the only person I've physcially fought is my sister. I beat the hoe.

🍻MY SISTER ... OK, HOLD ON NOW. SIT DOWN FOR THIS ONE. Let me know WHY this girl is a Taurus Sun, Taurus Moon, Aries Mercury, Taurus Venus, Virgo Mars... (I think her rising is Virgo but not confirmed) ... she goes into work one day, 2 hours late cause she overslept and when her boss confronted her she said "I don't believe in the concept of time" WTF. This is the only thing that makes me doubt astrology. Just kidding, I guess its all the Taurus but ??? Still I'm confused.

🍻Since she was Earth dominant ^, she never had to study for tests in school. She had an almost perfect average and never studied. Meanwhile my ADHD ass (Moon square Jupiter, Sun/Mars (3rd house ruler) opposition Neptune, Neptune in the 1st, Sun opposition Uranus) struggled with a 2.8 in high school.

🍻My mom is a Taurus Sun Libra Moon and my dad is a Scorpio Sun Sagittarius Moon. They aren't together anymore, but when I tell you they're children in old people bodies... me and my parents are more like friends if anything. I was never grounded, never in trouble for what other people my age were in trouble for, and my friends liked them more than me I swear.

🍻Having a lot of Leo in the chart mixed with a healthy scoop of Cancer may make someone kind of dramatic... but it's how I really feel guys ok? Yes, the fact that I have to wake up tomorrow at 8am is sending me rn. Off a ledge. Into a river. Never to return. I would rather eat dirt.

🍻12th house profection year and I never want to go to bed. I never want the day to end. Sleep is a bummer right now. Even when I do sleep I wake up like 100 times. Mostly cause my cat needs pets and who am I to deny him?

🍻ANYONE WITH AN EARTH MOON, ESPECIALLY VIRGO LIKE ME OR 6TH HOUSE. Get a pet. Get one. They rely on you and need you and love you to death. Someone/something NEEDING an Earth/Virgo Moon?! A dream. I love to be needed. I have a dog (1 year) and two kitties (7 months)... they are my literal children that I birthed.

🍻My boyfriend is a Cancer Sun, Aquarius Moon, Leo Mercury & Venus, and Libra Mars... I would pay money to see the female version of him. He's such a brat. BUT he is so fun to be around and is my best friend. His moon is in my 1st house, Sun in my 7th, Venus in my 8th and Mars in my 9th.

🍻Speaking of Aquarius Moon... I've met people with this moon sign and all of them have a detached sense of family in some way or another. Whether they don't have a close relationship with them or they're super independent. My boyfriend was adopted!

That's all for tonight folks xoxo

If I offended you in anyway, no I didn't.

[steddieas-shegoes]

stumbling into you

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'meet-cute at work' rated: M wc: 999 cw: sexual innuendo, semi-public handsy making out tags: making out, getting together, rock star Eddie Munson, modern au

a/n: let me just say getting this under 1000 words took longer than it took to write the original 1484 words it was 🙁

🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢

Steve's first day was going better than expected.

He'd admittedly lied about his skills to get this job, but how hard could it be to run errands?

A metal band in need of throat lozenges and hot tea was in the studio now.

Easy enough task to do.

When he walked into the control room, it seemed empty.

He looked back and checked the room number on the door.

"Let me help."

Steve turned to see the hottest guy he'd ever seen standing by the mixing board starting to walk over to him.

"Oh. Okay," Steve stuttered out.

"Let me grab the teas," the man said, his hand brushing against Steve's.

"I can just-" Steve let him, flushing when he smiled at him. "I could have set them on the table."

"It's okay, you've got your hands full..." he looked at the badge hanging off his lanyard. "Steve?"

"Yeah, sorry. First day."

"Really?" The man took the pack of throat lozenges from him, opening the bag and popping one in his mouth. "Welcome then. I'm sure we'll see a lot of each other over the next month or so."

"Do you record here a lot?"

"Yeah. We've got this studio booked solid for the next three weeks. Album needs to be perfect and we always get the best quality here."

"So do you sing?"

"I sing. Lead guitar, too."

"Is it a band I know?"

The man looked him over, taking in his business casual appearance, glasses slipping down his nose.

"I don't think we play anything you've listened to. Corroded Coffin?"

"My little brother listens to you! His mom never let him go to a concert though, said it would be too rough on him. He's kinda small for his age and she worries." Steve bit his lip. "Sorry, rambling."

"Cute, Stevie."

Steve blushed.

"I'm Eddie."

"Steve."

"Yeah, Stevie, I got that. You like any metal?" Eddie was clearly trying to have a real conversation with him, but Steve was drawing a blank on what the English language was.

"Never listened to any."

"You wanna listen? Something's off, but I can't put my finger on what. Maybe you could give me an idea."

"M-me?" Steve's eyes went wide.

"Yes, you," Eddie nudged him and tipped his head towards the mixing board. "C'mon, honest opinion."

"I-"

"Pleeeease?" Eddie pouted.

"Okay, but I don't really know what good is supposed to sound like," Steve agreed, walking to the board.

"Good is relative. If you think it sounds like metal music should, that's at least on the right track," Eddie pushed a couple of buttons and flipped a switch.

A surprisingly soft guitar melody filled the room, followed by a husky voice singing.

"This sounds..."

"Sounds?"

"You sound sad."

"Well, that's kind of what I was going for, so I guess that's a good thing."

The music cut off and Steve immediately wished he could hear more.

"Do you have other stuff recorded?" Steve suddenly needed to hear more of Eddie's voice.

"You wanna hear more?"

"If you want?"

Eddie flipped another switch, pressed a button, and a much faster guitar started playing, followed by heavy drums.

"This one doesn't have vocals."

Steve wouldn't listen to this regularly, but he could admit when people were talented, and it was very clear that Eddie and his band were talented.

"You're really good," Steve smiled at him.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Eddie shut off the music and stood up.

He leaned closer to Steve, playful smirk on his face.

"You wanna go in the booth?"

"I'm not allowed."

"I'm allowed and I'm asking, so." Eddie wiggled his eyebrows, making Steve giggle.

"Okay, sure."

Once in the small booth, Steve felt overwhelmed with Eddie's presence.

His body heat was enough to make Steve sweat.

"You do all the lead vocals?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. Since day one," Eddie said from right behind him, so close his breath hit the back of Steve's neck.

Steve shivered, closing his eyes as he felt Eddie's hand rest on his lower back.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to," Eddie whispered against his shoulder.

"I don't," Steve gasped.

Eddie turned him, pushing him against the wall behind him.

"Can I kiss you?" Eddie breathed against his lips.

Steve nodded, a whimper escaping his mouth as Eddie's lips touched his.

Eddie was a soft chorus, a soft kiss.

A soft moan when Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie's neck.

Eddie's fingers gripped Steve's hips, tugging him forward so their hips met, both already half hard.

"Wait," Steve said when Eddie started kissing down his neck. "When will they be back?"

"Don't know." Eddie nipped at one of Steve's freckles. "Don't care."

Steve moaned again when Eddie's hand found the front of his pants.

"What if-"

"Don't know. Don't care."

Steve threw his head back as Eddie's hand cupped him over his pants.

"Fuck, feels good."

"How fast can you come?" Eddie's hand squeezed, almost making Steve's legs buckle.

"I-"

"Eddie! Thought you were joining us!" A voice yelled.

"Be there in a few! Just wanted to check something!" Eddie yelled back.

"You're a workaholic!"

Eddie checked through the crack in the door to make sure the person left before he turned back to Steve with a sad smile.

"I probably should join them." Eddie cupped the side of Steve's face in his hand. "Maybe after your shift we can meet up?"

"Really?"

"Really, sweetheart."

"Oh. Um, I guess. I mean, it's probably against the rules, but I can give you my number?"

"I won't let them fire you. I made the move, right?" Eddie dipped his thumb into Steve's mouth for just a second, teasing.

Eddie may have made the first move, but Steve was quick to make the next one that night, not giving Eddie a second to say hi before he was in his lap in the backseat of a hired car.

Steve's job had a lot of perks, but gaining a boyfriend was definitely the best one.

[starrysvn]

place in me | jung wooyoung

pairing: chef!wooyoung x chef!gn reader

genre: angst, slow burn, fluff, ex2l

word count: 17k

warnings: angsty af, kinda toxic workplace, food, drinking, i know jackshit about cooking apart from hell's kitchen, masterchef and google searches, one (1) sex joke, reader is kinda dumb.

a/n: this has been in the works since march. i gotta stop procrastinating. anyhoww, i cited "m. butterfly" by david henry hwang and reworked one of my favorite quotes ever from "jane eyre" by charlotte brontë bc i luv her. hope u guys enjoy it <3

networks: @cromernet 🫶🏻

playlist: beside you by 5sos, finally // beautiful stranger by halsey, sparks fly by taylor swift, sorry by halsey, back to december by taylor swift, right where you left me by taylor swift, the winner takes it all by abba, haunted by taylor swift, amnesia by 5sos, place in me by luke hemmings

masterlist | navi

During quiet nights you worked best. It had always been that way ever since you were a student and you didn’t think things would change. Not when the kitchen was completely silent except for the slow rumbling of whatever you had on the stove and the swift swish of your chopping knife against the cutting board. You loved listening to music while cooking, but on nights like these, you preferred the muffled sounds of the city coming in from the cracked open window and the occasional humming that left your mouth. 

It was peaceful enough to remember why you loved cooking so much. Not that you ever forgot but, lately, it was hard to find joy in your job. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen kept you busy enough to render your work almost mechanical, punctuated by the quick rhythm of orders coming in. All the loud noises around you sent you into a frenzy more often than not. 

It was on nights like these - in the kitchen of your own apartment, off duty for the evening - immersed in the mellow atmosphere you created, that you wondered if it had all been worth it. The studying, the getting yelled at, Paris… If it had all brought you to this - working in a Michelin star restaurant you had only ever dreamed of setting foot in -  but could never get you anywhere past it. If this was your final dream, your last ambition, then why did it all feel so heavy? 

It was a question you could never answer. You took great pride in your work and in yourself for getting you where you were. You liked some of your fellow chefs, and the reaction your answer got out of people when they asked you where you worked. It lit a match in you, it felt like a pat on the shoulder to your younger self. But when you got home exhausted and so not ready to face it all again the next morning, doubt clung heavily to your mind. 

You turned off the burner with a sour taste in your mouth you knew only your cooking could melt away. Sat down in front of your gamjatang, you took a big breath before diving in. You had avoided the dish like the plague ever since then, but somehow tonight your hands moved for you when reaching for the ingredients. The circumstances couldn’t have been more different than when you last cooked it; you weren’t hungover, it wasn’t four in the morning, and you weren’t halfway across the world with him. 

A memory pushed and shoved to come to the forefront of your mind, one about warmth and love and understanding all washing over you in the tiny kitchenette of a Paris apartment where, with him, you tipsily laughed and slow danced to the music of your hearts beating at the same time.

It wasn’t surprising that it just didn’t taste the same. Recipe and execution-wise it was perfect, you couldn’t count the amount of times you cooked the soup. But it tasted off, somehow. And right now you didn’t have the mental capacity to analyze why. So you just ate in silence, a slight frown on your lips with every spoonful, grateful you only had to load the washing machine before going to bed, disappointed your peaceful night of cooking had been ruined. 

–

“What’s got your panties in a twist today?” 

Park Seonghwa was your favorite coworker. You two started working at Hwang’s at the same time and bonded pretty quickly. He was quiet and focused, a perfectionist when it came to his job and never really contributed to the migraine-inducing bustling crowd of chefs around you. He also would never dare to speak like this when you both were in earshot of the sous chef. You sighed. Apparently, you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and proceeded to grill your junior chef Jongho with more bite than usual. 

“Please don’t say that when Seo’s so close to us,” you flashed him a warning look which was met with a mischievous smirk. 

“We all know you’re aiming for his spot, with the scolding you just did he can only be proud,” the sous chef in your kitchen had the reputation of being even worse than head chef Lee, truly the bane of everyone’s existence. You didn’t want to be like him. 

“Oh, lord,” you shook your head, slowing down your chopping the slightest bit. You’d woken up with a headache after a fitful night of sleep, already frustrated with the world before even facing it. Missing the bus and clocking in late didn’t help either, not when you were greeted with a murderous glare from the head chef. You didn’t mean to be snappy with your junior, but things had inevitably piled up. 

“I don’t even know if I want the position anymore,” you grunted under your breath, earning a soft giggle from Seonghwa.

“Careful saying that out loud, or the vultures will try even harder to take you down,” he knew better than to bump his shoulder with yours, lest he interrupted your furious chopping and ended up being the reason you lost a finger, but did it anyway. The sweet gesture comforted you, surprisingly you didn’t feel the urge to bite his head off. 

“Let them,” you meant the words to sound a little less disheartened than they did, but all of last night’s thinking had seemingly gotten to you. Seonghwa gave you a confused look but could say little before being interrupted. 

“Executive Chef Kim needs to speak to you,” the eyes of the whole kitchen were on you as a sort of stillness descended upon everyone. Even Seonghwa beside you looked surprised, even if less than everyone else. You knew in his head he was probably cooking up some joke about you being the next tyrant sous. 

There were two ways this encounter could go: either fire you or promote you. A conviction that grew stronger when you entered the still-empty restaurant and sat at a table were not only the executive chef, but also the owner and manager, waiting for you. Why would they do this hours before opening? 

“Thank you for joining us,” manager Na said as soon as you sat down in front of them. “As you may be aware, chef Kim and chef Lee have had their eyes on you as a possible candidate to replace chef Seo once he retires.” Her piercing eyes stared deep into your soul. You nodded, almost afraid to speak, wondering why in the world you chose to work for such intimidating people. 

“I’m afraid you will not be taking that spot.” 

A low blow. Somehow, even when you were neither too hopeful nor too enthusiastic about becoming sous chef, the rejection still hurt. It still sent a jolt of disappointment and self-doubt shooting through you. Were you not doing a good job? Were you not up to their standards? 

“However,” you looked up again, your eyes now on executive chef Kim. “Mr. Hwang is opening up another restaurant.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” you mumbled, wheels slowly turning in your head. Manager Na smiled knowingly. 

“I would like to give you the opportunity to become head chef in my new restaurant,” Mr. Hwang said. “I’m told by chef Kim and chef Lee that you would fit the position better than the one of sous chef. I trust their judgment.” 

It took all you had not to let your jaw hang in front of them. Head chef? Had they lost their minds? Never had your mind taken the decision for you before you could even rationalize your thoughts. 

“Could I think about it?” 

“Time ticks fast here, you know that chef Y/L/N,” Manager Na’s intimidating eyes were on you again. “We’d like to have an answer in two days at most.” 

With a curt nod, they dismissed you. You didn’t think you had ever made a beeline for the bathroom so fast in your entire life. Surely, you couldn’t go back into the kitchen looking like your cat just died. Everybody would know something was wrong, they would know that the position as sous was still free and you had been shot down. And there was little they could do better than kicking a man when he was down. 

So you sat in the cubicle, trying to calm your shaking hands and regain composure. Act like nothing happened. Betray no emotion. Go back to dicing potatoes exactly one centimeter by one centimeter. Not a millimeter more, not one less. 

Assholes. All of them. They couldn’t have chosen a better moment to tell you this than the most hectic night of the week. And now you’d have to work through it. Through the eyes trailed on you, holding questions and spite and jealousy. Through chef Lee’s and chef Seo’s yelled reprimanding, making sure everything was just perfect for the critic coming in.

Just one more night.

Never had you held on so tightly to such meager consolation. 

–

“You look like you need a beer.” 

Seonghwa’s voice broke the silence of the back alley. After closing, you decided to stick around instead of fleeing home like you usually would. It had been a while since the last time you sat outside the back entrance of the kitchen, alone with your thoughts after hours of noise. 

“I need vodka,” you voiced, not looking up as he took a spot beside you.

“That’s stooping so low, what’s wrong?”

You knew the question would come. Somehow he had not asked anything when you entered the kitchen again with a blank face. A murmur had slithered past as you took your place and started working again. But Seonghwa had just shot you a look, resuming his work as well. 

“They want to make me head chef at Hwang’s new restaurant.” 

“But that’s great!” He was looking at you with those big, wide, excited eyes of his and a genuine smile on his lips. One would think the offer was made to him. You were almost sorry you had to wipe that happiness away. 

“I don’t know if I want that…”

“What do you mean?” He looked puzzled, but not surprised. You sighed. How did you explain this without sounding crazy? 

“I mean… I-” you grunted, hands in your hair. “When’s the last time you felt like cooking?” 

Seonghwa stared back with a slight frown in his brow, eyes bouncing around your face in an effort to understand. 

“Like, really cooking. Without walking into the kitchen and wanting to throw up, or dreading opening time and all the yelling. I know it’s how it is when you work for such big names but fuck. Everything’s too fast and I… it feels like I don’t care anymore, Hwa. They took my passion and stomped all over it.” 

“Didn’t you want to be a high end, gourmet restaurant chef?” 

You stared, mouth hanging open. Of course, you did. It was your biggest dream, your one ambition. It was excruciating that all the pressure was making you break, making you think that you weren’t cut out for this and you had wasted your time. 

“I did, I do.”

“But?” 

“But this isn’t it. This feels like a survival show, where everyone’s out for blood. I understand competitiveness, but I can hardly breathe when we start cooking. Chef Seo is a literal nightmare and I don’t think I can do it anymore in a place like this.” 

“I see…”

“You think I lost my mind,” you let your head tilt back, eyes on the starless night sky.

“Maybe you did,” Seonghwa said. “That doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” 

“I’ll be honest, I never thought I’d hear you like this,” he continued. “You hold such pride for what you do and how you do it. I think Seo might yell at you just because he’s irritated he’s got nothing on you. Half of the people hate you for how well you manage.”

“Gee, thanks,” you scoffed.

“My point is,” he bumped his shoulder with yours. “That it’s indicative of how much this place fucking sucks if they got you breaking. A Michelin kitchen, or any kitchen for that matter, shouldn’t burn out their best chefs.” 

“Jongho is so brave for junioring here,” you deflected, allowing his words to soothe your burning wounds. 

“Hey, we did that too!”

“Yeah, and look at where it got us,” you giggled, smiling for the first time tonight. Seonghwa huffed out a laugh. 

A beat of silence passed. You were glad for Seonghwa. Even though you often joked he was just your favorite coworker, you considered him a dear friend. One of your only friends for the matter. 

“What are you gonna do?” 

“I’ll quit,” you heard his surprised gasp and chuckled. “And I’ll refuse the position. I know head chef sounds better but I know them. Manager Na and Mr. Hwang will only hire straight up assholes and I’d have to deal with it, and not even as executive chef.”

“We’re not assholes!” his hand sat on his chest in mock offense, you giggled.

“We look like assholes and do our job quietly and damn near perfectly, that’s why we’re here.” 

Mumbling something along the lines of I guess so, Seonghwa accepted the heavy truth. In the quiet alley, sitting with your friend, you felt okay. The murmur of the busy city filled your heart as you quietly giggled and remembered your first days working at Hwang’s. Goodbyes were always hard on you, but not this time. You expected gut-wrenching pain and tears and the heavy burden of failure on your shoulders as you accepted your decision. But none of it manifested, not when Seonghwa had snuck one of the most expensive bottles of wine out of the kitchen and launched himself in a perfect rendition of Chef Seo’s latest meltdown. Maybe taking a step back didn’t mean failing, something you never would’ve believed mere months ago. 

-

The sound of freedom equated to the one of your blaring alarms each morning. It had been two weeks since you had quit your job, but you still refused to get a good night’s sleep. Well, except the night you told Seonghwa and you ended up drunk off your faces. 

You rolled over, turning off the annoying alarm, ready to start another day of not knowing what to do. There were few things you enjoyed doing, apart from cooking, when all you were left with was free time and silence. It was nice getting out of the house in the early spring morning to buy groceries, go for walks, and swing by your friend’s flower shop, but it got old quickly. Mostly, you didn’t like how sometimes, while cooking, memories you tried to never think of seemed to resurface on their own. 

When you finally got to the kitchen and there was nothing but eggs in the fridge – it was shopping day – you settled on an omelette for breakfast. Only, halfway through cooking, your mind wandered back there. 

When Chef Berrien asked you to make an omelette you wanted to laugh. You didn’t though, not when you saw the serious frown he was sporting. He was being serious? The absurdity of the situation made you question if dropping everything you had back at home just to fly to Paris to master your craft had been worth it. Maybe your mother was right, maybe you were crazy. 

“Omelettes are the easiest thing to spoil,” he stood resolutely in front of you all. “Only good chefs make good omelettes.” 

Oh god, your mother was right. 

“Good luck,” a smug voice sounded from beside you. 

If there was someone who could push you over the edge Chef Berrien shoved you to, it was Jung Wooyoung. In just two weeks of sharing your working station with him, you discovered that his bubbly personality clashed with your silent brooding. You preferred to work in silence and, apparently, he thrived in chaos. 

“You too,” you grumbled, getting your few ingredients ready. How in the world were you supposed to prove your worth with a fucking omelette? You closed your eyes and sighed, getting to work. 

“That definitely looks… simple,” Wooyoung mumbled as Berrien walked through the cooking stations, pulling faces at every dish. You looked down at yours - a plain, french omelette - then at his - all prettily plated and definitely cheese filled - and bit your tongue.

“He asked for an omelette, not a Michelin star worthy breakfast,” you hastily whispered, wishing he would just shut up for once.

“Aren’t we training to be Michelin star worthy chefs?” came his rebuttal, getting on your last nerve with that pretty smirk of his. 

Pretty? 

You scoffed and shook your head, straightening your back and clearing your throat as Berrien came close to your station. When the chef’s eyes landed on your omelette, a slight frown pulled his lips downwards. As he walked away, you did your best to ignore Wooyoung’s silent snicker and the burning in your cheeks. After the evaluation, you kept quiet for the rest of the day. 

It sometimes happened that you would close off to the rest of the world, and focused only on what you were thinking and the task at hand. Most often when you were cooking, which both helped and hindered your work. As much as you needed to focus on what you were doing, you also needed to listen to orders while doing it. You hoped to get better at managing it, it was why you were here, after all. Though, for now, after a full day surrounded by people, you were happy sitting alone with your back resting against the backdoor to the kitchen. 

“Is the silent treatment payback for beating you today?”

The door flew open, making you lose balance for a second, then came his question. 

“You didn’t beat me, Wooyoung, this is not a competition,” you sighed, keeping your eyes set on the wall in front of you rather than on his figure sitting down beside you. 

“Sounds like something a sore loser would say,” he bumped his shoulder with yours, no doubt with a shit-eating grin on his lips. That did it.

“Just because your omelette got a nod and mine got a frown, it doesn’t mean yours was better!” You all but exploded, finally looking at him. Indeed, he was wearing a smug grin. 

“Well, Chef Berrien would disagree,” you scoffed as he looked at you with shiny, distracting, eyes. Was it the light from the lamppost reflected in them or had the lack of sleep finally got to your brain? You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thought.

“Fuck you too, I guess,” you finally said, turning back around, earning a laugh from him. 

You didn’t want to stop and think about why his laugh pulled a snicker out of you, making you feel so light and at ease. 

“Does this mean you’ll go back to talking to me then?” He asked, sounding a little small. “You’re not mad?” 

Something pulled at your heartstrings, hearing him ask something like that. Did he really think you were mad at him? You probably looked like an asshole for the rest of the day after Berrien barely passed your omelette. 

“I’m not,” you said much faster than you anticipated. “I never was.” 

“That’s good,” he smiled, and you weren’t sure you liked the warmth that blossomed in your chest. 

You avoided thinking of your training in Paris with all your might, and he was the reason why. But it seemed that now that your whole world had turned upside down, your brain could do nothing but. Add that to the list of things you hated about unemployment. A funny smell pulled you from your thoughts, eyes focusing back on the almost burned omelette in front of you. Mumbling curses under your breath, you turned off the heat and plated it. This was why you never let your thoughts take over. 

You ate your spoiled breakfast in silence, deciding to get started with your day and your grocery shopping, mentally listing all the food you’d need. Anything, really, at this point to keep your mind occupied with something that wasn’t him.

It was still hard for you to wrap your head around what Jung Wooyoung meant to you. Or rather, you knew perfectly well and tried to avoid it like the plague. He was a closed chapter you didn’t want to revisit simply because it hurt. Because there was a point in time where he meant the whole world to you, where he was your whole world, and you decided to burn it all down only to choke on the ashes of what it used to be. 

You left wondering if he was still writing pages or considered the story closed and done as you did. Like you had to not to drown in guilt. 

While walking down the street, warm sunlight caressing your face, you asked yourself why it was all coming back to you now. A hollow of confusion had opened up in your chest, and of its own volition your heart chose to fill it with such memories. When Wooyoung came into your life, he did so by taking it by storm; randomly, upsetting all you had ever known, and maybe at the wrong time. That didn’t mean he didn’t leave a sign, a permanent one, on your heart. And now that you were crawling in confusion, he was barging in once more.

Wooyoung was late. It was teamwork evaluation day and your project partner was nowhere to be seen. Chef Berrien had sent daggers flying your way upon seeing the empty side of your workstation, not waiting a second longer to start the class. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole and also to strangle Wooyoung on sight. There must’ve been a logical reason why he still hadn’t shown up when you were supposed to finish your three-day project. If the fucker left you alone to finish cooking lièvre à la royale, you were seriously going to give him the scolding of a lifetime.

Anxiety started to claw at your stomach, twisting it in knots and tugging at them in a way that made it harder to breathe. Under the chef’s pointed gaze you could only stay as still as possible, hoping he’d prolong his very unsubtle speech about tardiness until Wooyoung got here, praying he would, and yet cursing him in your head. 

He still hadn’t shown up when he gave the class permission to start working. You sighed in frustration, walking to the fridge to retrieve the hare you’d cooked the day before with trembling hands. Back at your station, you realized that working while checking the door every three seconds would get you nowhere, and you weren’t about to fail the assignment even if half of your team was missing. 

When the meat was finally cleaned of the jellied liquid it had sat in overnight, and you were preparing to cut it into exactly eighty grams slices - not one more, not one less, Berrien's voice sounded in your head -  the door to the kitchen burst open.

In came a panting Wooyoung, his white chef jacket buttoned up a little crooked, who tried to make his way to your station unseen. It didn’t work.

“Jung,” Berrien’s voice resonated in the hot hair of the kitchen, making everyone stop working for a beat. Too bad no one had time to spare. You started slicing. “I don’t appreciate tardiness.”

“I’m very sorry, Chef-” he held his hand up next to his face, shutting up your partner. 

“You may start cooking,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding the whole time, shoulders almost sagging in relief. “But don’t think I won’t keep this in mind during evaluation.” 

The frustration you’d tried to keep at bay so far flared up once more, and your grip on the knife tightened. Wooyoung silently made his way next to you, washing his hands carefully and using the time to assess how far you’d gotten into the process. You didn’t utter a single word, fuming quietly as you focused on your task and he picked up on his. 

You couldn’t afford to lose time bickering now, and for the first time in a while, you cooked in complete silence, the air around you tense and devoid of the usual jokes he would throw around to lift your spirits. No banter, just instructions and cooking for the next five hours. 

Despite everything, Chef Berrien couldn’t hide how pleased he was with your dish, which didn’t end up at the top of the class only because of Wooyoung’s mishap. As soon as the chef dismissed you, you fled the kitchen.

“Wait!” Wooyoung’s voice called after you, who were already outside and determined to escape to your apartment to avoid cussing him out in front of your fellow chefs, who had already thrown confused glances at you the whole day. 

“Hey, hold up!” He caught you by the wrist, spinning you around. If he wanted to do this here, who were you to deny him? 

“What.” Wooyoung almost flinched at the harshness of your voice. 

“I’m sorry I was late, I really am, I just-”

“Save it,” you cut him off. “Day’s over, damage is done, and we ended up with an alright grade. I don’t want to fight.” 

It was true. For how mad you’d been, you didn’t want to make it worse. You could tell he was sorry by the way he’d cooked in silence, waltzing around you as if you were a bomb ready to go off at any minute. It had taken all your strength not to. You made to turn around and walk away, but he was determined to make you listen to what he had to say. 

“Can you come with me?” He sounded defeated despite the determination in his eyes. All you really wanted was to go home, wash up and rot in bed. You were tired, physically and mentally drained by the day. But your friend – because how could you deny that Wooyoung had become more than a simple classmate in the last month? He’d quietly snuck up on you, surprising you with his cheerful smile and awful jokes, and slowly but steadily carved his own spot into your heart, now beating to the rhythm of his screechy laughter and kind words – was pleading you with his brown, burning eyes and how could you say no? 

Sighing in defeat, you nodded, readjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder and watching as his frown turned into a soft smile. Wooyoung took your hand in his, going back into the building, and guided you up the stairs. Transfixed, you stared at your hands; his felt slightly rough from all the cooking but still soft. You ignored the warmth the simple gesture sparked in your heart and followed quietly; you could only hope he wouldn’t get the two of you expelled. 

Finally, you got to the last flight of stairs, legs burning and chest heaving. You hoped he had a good reason to be dragging you up six flights of stairs and potentially getting you in trouble for trespassing. He ushered you to the small balcony, apparently mostly used for storage, and nodded to a shaky ladder perched onto its wall, leading to the roof. You often did this at your apartment too, the one perk of living on the last floor, but suddenly your mouth went dry.

“How did you even have the time to find out about this-'' you climbed the small way up, thanking your lucky star that the building at least had a flatter roof compared to yours. But the words died in your mouth when you finally got your bearings and looked around.

Wooyoung emerged as well, now leaning against one of the chimneys. You sat down, amazed at the view all around you; as the sun set in the West, tinging the bluish sky with hues of warm orange and golden light, you spotted the Sacre Coeur sitting North and the Eiffel Tower immersed in a pink blush down South. A light breeze passed by, blowing a strand of dark hair into Wooyoung’s eyes, taking your breath away. Paris was quite the show from up there. 

“I really am sorry,” slowly, he made his way over, sitting down next to you as he cast his eyes onto the breathtaking view in front of you. “I overslept, couldn’t find my keys, then had to rush here and… I’m sorry.” 

You scoffed, not believing he almost failed the both of you because he didn’t hear his alarm in the morning. Actually, you could believe it, because it was such a Wooyoung thing to do. You couldn’t stay mad for long though, not when you turned to look at him and simply seeing his face bathing in the golden sun made your heart stutter in your chest. Not when his sorry eyes were melting like honey in the light. 

“I wanted to punch you in the face when you came in late,” overwhelmed by his gaze, you looked away. Faintly, you heard him scoff beside you. “But I was also relieved. I didn’t think Berrien would let you cook.”

“I was ready to beg on my knees,” you snickered, Wooyoung elbowed your side. “No, really, lièvre à la royale is a bitch, I wouldn’t have let you cook it alone.”

“Then why did you sleep through your alarm? I was seeing red and had a knife in my hand, do you have a death wish?” You joked, heart singing when you made him laugh. 

“Hey, I had trouble sleeping last night,” he defended himself, hands up as his laughter died down. With a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes, you finally looked back at him, studying his face. Only then you noticed the purplish circles under his eyes, just a bit darker than usual.

“Why?” You asked, trying to sound less worried than how you felt. It was Wooyoung’s turn to avoid your eyes and look out at the Parisian skyline, starting to twinkle in the fast-approaching night. 

“I- well,” he sighed as you kept looking, feeling the air around you shift. The way Wooyoung was struggling to come up with an answer had you feeling like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, buzzing with expectation, hanging onto his every word. You didn’t ponder too long on why your heart was racing or why you felt like you could barely breathe. Finally, he looked at you.

“I like you.” 

Now you truly did find it hard to breathe. 

“I like you so much I can barely focus when we cook, and it’s never happened to me before because I love cooking and I always pay close attention to what I’m doing. I also don’t want to lose a finger, you know? But now you’re around and it’s like I can’t help but look at you. You’re so bright and so passionate, and when you’re chopping vegetables you scrunch your nose a little and it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen-”

In seconds you had your lips on his, pulling him closer with a delicate hand on the back of his neck. Wooyoung froze for only a millisecond before kissing you back. His lips were so pillowy and soft, you kissed him slowly, like you had all the time in the world. Lightly, his hand traveled up to rest on yours, which had moved onto his cheek. Kissing him felt like coming home after a long day. Warm and pleasant like the flame that swallowed your heart, chasing away the menacing grip fear had on it. 

Wooyoung pulled away first if only to plant a small peck onto your lips before smiling. 

“I was speaking,” he said.

“You were rambling.” 

You both started laughing, hearts singing. 

“What I wanted to say is that you shine in your own light and I can’t help but bask in it.” 

The way he was looking at you, in ways no one ever could, could have melted you right then and there. You felt the flush rise to your cheeks, the hand that still rested on his cheek trembling lightly.

“I like you too, Jung Wooyoung,” you smiled. “More than I think I should.”

The quaint flower shop came into view, dispelling the memory, and a soft smile opened up on your lips. It didn’t look like there were any customers, so you stepped in. The colors of the pretty flowers that covered every inch of the walls always managed to put you in a better mood. You walked up to the counter, ringing the bell.

“Coming!” You heard from behind it, somewhere in the back, with a little shuffling and a loud thump. You jumped on your spot, giggling.

“You okay, Sang?” You asked, trying to peep. Your friend emerged a second later, clad in a white shirt, jeans, and his green apron, blowing a piece of his black fringe out of his eyes, a vase full of sunflowers in his hands. 

“Oh, hey, what brings you ‘round?” He smiled, setting the vase on the counter. 

“Just dropping by before going grocery shopping,” you shrugged, smiling back before you started playing softly with the leaves of the flowers near you. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m good, I should be asking how you are,” he raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, “it’s the fourth time you visit this week.” 

You rolled your eyes, used to his antics, standing to help when he nodded at you to follow him. The quietness of the shop eased your thoughts more often than not, plus, you enjoyed the company of your friend. Yeosang lived in your same apartment building and opened up his shop early in the morning, around the same time you had to leave for work. Oftentimes you shared a coffee before your obligations called. He complained about horrible customers and you complained about your horrible coworkers. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” busy with an arrangement, he nodded you to the water lilies to his right. You reached for them with an arched brow, passing them. “A restaurant is opening down the street, if you’re interested in paying rent this month.” 

You huffed a laugh, pretending to be offended. 

“I’ll have you know I save my money, thank you very much.” He stood again, having finished his composition, watching you with an amused expression. “But I appreciate it,” you conceded. Yeosang smiled now, going back behind the counter as you followed.

“You should really check it out, even if it’s just temporary. It’d do you good,” a customer walked in, interrupting your chat. You nodded, leaving him to his work, shooting him one last smile before walking out. His cheerful Have a good day followed you out of the shop and into the now busier street.

Yeosang was right, you knew that much, but you still hesitated as you left the flower shop. There was uncertainty in your steps as you dared to walk down the street, looking ahead to spot the restaurant. Maybe you could go later that day, you could start with something easy like the grocery shopping you needed to do, to ease your nerves. 

That was better, you decided, easing yourself into the day with your routine before upsetting it by facing something new. With newfound vigor, you resumed your walking, headed to your favorite greengrocer. A walk that lasted barely five steps, before you collided against another passerby. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-” 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

As apologies spilled past your lips, your eyes finally caught sight of the person you so rudely slammed into. When you did, you stopped talking, just as your lungs stopped breathing for a long second.

His dark hair looked a little longer, and his smile was just as you remembered, if not a little softer. Breathtakingly dashing like the first time you saw him, even in his worst moments. Because the last time you saw him, things weren’t pretty. You threw around words you didn’t mean only to disappear from his life. Both of you were crying, eyes red and puffy, voice broken as you spoke. You thought you’d never see him again.

To your dismay, you realized right then and there that you weren’t ready to face him yet. You never prepared for the moment it would all come back, simply because you never thought it would. 

“Thought I’d never see you again,” Wooyoung huffed, his polite smile falling in seconds.

“Yeah, me too,” you croaked, still in shock. 

The moment stretched on for what felt like minutes, and was only probably seconds, as you desperately tried to come up with something to say, something that’d make sense. But your brain came up empty-handed, because what if he hated you? He should hate you. What if he just told you to fuck off and left? Just like you did years ago. 

“So, what are you up to?” 

And yet, here he was again, taking your life by storm. There was no way he was standing there, in front of you in the middle of a busy sidewalk, asking what was of your life. You blanked, producing a sort of confused and surprised noise. He had to be joking. You watched as a little amusement flashed in his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. 

“Would you like to catch up over coffee?” 

Your eyes must’ve been wide as saucers, not a single second of this was making sense to you. 

“U-uh… Sure,” you shrugged, despite yourself. 

Was this his way of showing you he was unbothered and had moved on? His long-awaited chance to brag about where he was in life? You didn’t know him as someone who would do that, but perhaps you deserved it. Maybe this was karma. 

Awkward. It was all so painfully awkward: walking in tense silence beside him to the coffee shop down the street, trying to make small talk about the weather, stumbling over your words when ordering coffee, waiting for him to join you at the table near the exit. Just in case. 

“You’re back home?” You finally asked as he sat down in front of you, desperate to find something, anything, to talk about and fill the silence that hung menacingly over your heads. After all, he wanted to catch up. Wooyoung nodded, slowly sipping his drink.

“Oh, you’ve been traveling then,” you mumbled, playing with your coffee cup, not daring to look up at him again.

“I was, yes.” It was hard to wrap your head around what was happening. In another life, this would all have been familiar. It could have been. Sharing a cup of coffee on a Thursday morning, talking about whatever, sharing cool recipes, and planning how or when to try them out. His presence wouldn’t make you want to simultaneously vomit and run and hide. Dug your own grave, huh? 

“Only big names I imagine,” you forced a smile. He shrugged with a huff, a little bashful perhaps. It was all you needed to know you’d guessed right.

“What about you? What brings you here?” Wooyoung asked, pulling you out of your reverie. Despite the small, polite smile on his lips, his eyes were unreadable. Though, deep down, you knew the answer he wanted to hear. That you traveled all around the world and did big things - still were - and worked for big names. Achieved your dreams at the expense of his. The lump in your throat made it hard to swallow, to speak. 

“Worked at Hwang’s for a while…” you managed to say through the bitterness. Wooyoung’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, jaw hanging open.

“Really? Wow, that’s… amazing! Doesn’t it have two Michelin stars?” Some of your guilt evaporated at the surprise and excitement in his voice, a lightness that was quickly crushed by your own disappointment. 

“How’s it there?” There it was, the million-dollar question. You scoffed, bitter, looking at him, watching his face fall a little. 

“I quit.” You shrugged. 

“You? Quitting? What happened to the Y/N I knew?” Wooyoung was surprised, that much you could tell, but there was something else brewing in his brown eyes. 

“Dead, gone and buried, apparently.” 

Your words were nothing but bleak, with a little bitterness still in them. Sure, you did what was best for you and you were proud, but you couldn’t help but feel like you had let him down. And wasn’t that absolutely, wildly foolish? 

“They offered me a job as head chef in their new restaurant, but I turned that down as well,” you rushed to explain, feeling like you had to, missing his furrowed brow. 

“That’s…” 

“Crazy?” You offered, cutting him off. Wooyoung scoffed. 

“Well, yeah, but there must’ve been a good reason,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to justify your choices to me, Y/N.” 

Your breathing faltered at his words and the fragility they held. Wooyoung had muttered them so softly, you could’ve lost them in the bustling atmosphere around you, and somehow both stabbed and healed your heart’s wounds. 

A moment passed before he cleared his throat, speaking again.

“So, you’re unemployed,” you almost couldn’t fathom how quickly he got back to bubbly and upbeat. You nodded, still stunned.

“Great, me too.” Wooyoung smiled while you blinked repeatedly. Was he… happy? 

“My friend told me about this one restaurant opening down the street-”

“They’re not opening,” he said, watching as your face fell. “Not yet at least.” 

You furrowed a brow, confused, about to ask what he meant when he cut you off again.

“I still need to find a co-owner.”

For a moment, you didn’t hear the car, just outside, honking at a group of teenagers crossing the street despite the redlight. You missed the way a barista made a glass fall and shatter eliciting surprised gasps around the shop. You only saw Wooyoung in front of you, his expression between smug and daring to hope, eyes shining with a little fear. All you heard were the words that left his mouth and what they implied, along with your heart ringing in your ears.

“What do you want to do? Why did you decline the head chef position?” You blanched, head spinning, brain scrambling to form coherent words. His eyes burned with a fire in them that screamed determination, one you were used to seeing as he challenged a dish he was afraid to ruin. A fire you used to love so much and that, you found, still made your breath hitch. 

“I-I just want to make good food and not run a kitchen of overworked, stressed, miserable and spiteful people,” you settled on, not daring to look away, not even when he leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips.

“How’d you like it to open a restaurant?” 

“Let’s open our own restaurant,” you laughed at his words, turning your head to catch his enthusiastic smile and bed hair all over the place. He was so beautiful, bathing in the morning light of your room, that your heart jumped and hurt and sang all at once. 

“What?! Is this post-nut clarity?” Wooyoung laughed, pulling you with him.

“Way to ruin the moment, love,” he quieted down. “I’m serious, though,” he was looking at you with amusement dancing in his eyes, and such adoration that sometimes it was hard to fathom it was directed at you.

“Mixing feelings with work is the recipe for disaster, Jung,” you found yourself saying, giggling when he pulled you into him, his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was quiet for a while and you reveled in the warmth of the moment. Wooyoung often made you feel like anything was possible, like right now, huddled in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets despite the impending class you needed to leave for. 

“I think we’d make it,” he whispered, quite believing the words he was saying. “And if it all starts falling apart we can hire chefs to cook and be the owners. Live somewhere tropical, rebuild our relationship…” 

“That’s so sad, we wouldn’t be cooking at all!” you laughed, hiding in his chest and hearing a fake offended hey! from him. “You dream too big, Woo.”

“And you dream too small, my love.” He guided your face in front of his with gentle hands, bumping his nose with yours before kissing you until you were left breathless. When you pulled away, you finally saw the stars dancing in his eyes.

“I do have dreams,” you almost whispered, treading lightly on your own aspirations, opening up your heart for someone else to see. Someone who would understand and not call you crazy. Wooyoung nudged you, an expectant smile on his lips. “I want to travel all around the world and learn from the best of the best. Life’s a classroom, I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop.”

“Never?” he asked, not quite surprised, but more like impressed. He understood. You let out an elated giggle, almost cursing yourself for behaving like a schoolgirl. 

“Never.” unable to resist, you pecked his lips once. 

“That’s a wonderful dream, love.” 

One of his hands came up to rest on your cheek, cradling it gently, looking at you as if you were the most prized possession of his. All over, warmth wrapped you up, and rose to your cheeks that he was still grazing his thumb over, light as a feather.

“I want to open a restaurant someday, ” he whispered, so close to you, looking into your eyes and sending sparks flying in your chest. “But I think I might just follow you to the ends of the world.”

His lips crashed on yours once more, sending your heart racing more than his words had. This might’ve been the closest you’d ever felt to heaven, with Wooyoung wrapped around you, canceling any and everything else. You knew, right then and there, that the fall was going to hurt like nothing had ever before. 

Consommé was the most devilish dish you’d ever had the displeasure of cooking. And yet, its intricate cooking process demanded every last bit of your undivided attention. That was why you were sweating away in the kitchen, trying to achieve the perfect result through your rusty memory of the process, although you had no need for it. Well, except not thinking of your morning. You’d rather remember Chef Berrien’s voice as he dictated the recipe and the endless ways you could ruin it, than your encounter with Wooyoung. 

A shiver ran down your spine, tingling all the way, when his words, the ones from earlier and the ones from back then, echoed in your mind; clashing, fighting, and leaving behind scorched earth. 

You could hardly believe this was your life right now. Accepting would mean tying yourself down to this place, to Wooyoung. You let the thought simmer in your head, waiting for the familiar claustrophobia to bloom in your chest, suggesting you to run and never come back.  

It didn’t come. 

Instead, the thought of leaving pulled at your heartstrings. You liked it here. You liked your morning coffee shit-talking sessions with Yeosang, you liked meeting up with Seonghwa on his days off, you liked your greengrocers and the walk back through the park near home. You liked your apartment, you finally liked the disposition of your tools in your kitchen. You liked the thought of working with Wooyoung. 

You dropped the ladle, splashing your skin with the hot soup. You hissed in pain, clutching your hand to your chest before assessing the damage. You walked the short distance to the sink, running your hand under cold water.

Well, you thought, there goes the clarification process. 

-

You skipped breakfast with Yeosang that morning. For one, you were late despite the alarms, and, most importantly, you needed to talk yourself into actually meeting Wooyoung at the restaurant. The day before you’d left him with the promise of letting him know about the offer. You preferred not to think about how, for just a moment, you could see the determination falter in his eyes. Again. Wooyoung saved his number in your phone before letting you go. 

After taking care of your slightly burned hand, you stared at your phone for all of twenty minutes before finally crafting the perfect text saying you’d meet him at the restaurant at ten. 

And now, five minutes to ten, you were running down the street, dodging people left and right, trying to get to the closed-down restaurant. You couldn’t count the amount of sorry’s you’d thrown around when accidentally running into someone. Finally, the sign came into view, and so did Wooyoung. 

“You made it,” he sounded vaguely surprised and you tried not to let it get to you, or to let it show on your face. 

“So,” you cleared your voice after nodding. “How’d you find out about this?” He gestured for you to follow towards the entrance, producing the key from the back pocket of his black jeans. 

“I used to like this place,” he easily opened the door, leading you inside the empty restaurant. From the outside the restaurant didn’t look like much more than a hole in the wall, but the inside was spacious enough. A small restaurant, fitting maybe twenty tables at best, but you liked the idea. By the looks of it, it must had been recently renovated. Wooyoung switched the lights on, allowing you to see better. “When I got back the owner told me he was thinking of closing, and I asked if he wanted to sell. He made a pretty good offer.” 

“Huh,” you were still looking at the anonymous white walls and the few sleek black tables left behind, making your way to what you knew to be the kitchen. Stepping in, you gasped. It was perfect; an island kitchen slightly bigger than you’d imagined. Almost gleaming in its silver glory it stared back at you, inviting you in. You didn’t even mind the checkered floor as you walked across the space and took it in. Wooyoung stood by the door, leaning against its frame with his hands in his pockets, watching. It looked like he was holding his breath, and you knew why. 

“What do you think?” his voice was just a little bit hesitant. You turned around with a smile. 

“I love it,” you offered, noticing how he seemed to ease up the slightest bit. 

“Ah, I knew you’d fall for the island kitchen,” Wooyoung scoffed, walking into the space as well.

“Not my fault it’s the best type of kitchen,” you raised your hands, hearing him snort.

“Debatable,” he muttered, now standing in front of you. There was amusement dancing in his eyes, a spark you realized just then how much you’d missed. 

It hit you then, square in the chest, how much you really just missed him. He still seemed to know what you wanted even before you knew yourself. It happened then and it was happening now. Being in the kitchen with him felt electrifying, your hands itched to start cooking. You looked around once more, seeing yourself bustling around in this kitchen, Wooyoung at your side.

Never once did you regret the choices you’d made; your love for food had brought you all around the world, learning and cooking in the most beautiful kitchens, earning your praise felt like the biggest reward. Believing in yourself and your skill, your craft, and being able to perfect it was all you really needed. Maybe it was time to stop and breathe for a while, and put your experience to use. Because, no, you never regretted where your choices took you, except losing Wooyoung. Your compass, the one who never lost sight of your heart. 

“Let’s do it.”

Wooyoung looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, letting out a surprised sound.

“I saved quite a bit in the last few years and we could ask for a loan. Quite frankly, I’ve always wanted to run a kitchen on my own terms,” you could hear it in your voice, the ambition faintly coming back to it, something you hadn’t heard in a while. You smiled seeing Wooyoung straighten up. 

“We’d be running it together,” he lifted a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. You mirrored his stance.

“That’s good with me,” Wooyoung smirked. 

“Then let’s do it.”

-

Oftentimes you asked yourself how you ended up here. You believed it almost impossible that you were, once again, sitting in front of Jung Wooyoung at an ungodly hour of the night, eating food you’d made as the radio softly played in the background. What was even less credible to you was how you were sitting in your restaurant, yours, discussing menu plans. 

A month strong into the planning and designing, you were proud to say that you and Wooyoung were… friendly. Like coworkers were. Almost like long-lost friends would be. But it was fine because you got to stress Yeosang nearly every morning about how sometimes you both would slip into old habits and bicker like you used to and how that would confuse you. Then you’d talk Seonghwa’s ear off one night a week in front of your drinks, rambling on and on about how you’d catch yourself staring at him, blushing like an idiot, stumbling over your words. 

Safe to say that your friends were tired, but deep down it surprised and comforted them to see you come back to life bit by bit. 

It was all hard to wrap your head around because the last time you saw him still burned in the back of your mind. It was the giant elephant in the room you could never address, you could never pretend to not see. But Wooyoung was great at turning a blind eye, you realized. And you couldn’t really blame him either. You never expected to be in this sort of situation, you had quite literally run from it. 

But you were afraid of misstepping, of crossing a line.

So, now, there you stood, at a crossroads; talk about it and watch this newfound truce crash and burn, or pretend like everything was fine. For now, discussing the menu with your co-owner would have to do. 

“I think we should add that!” Wooyoung all but yelled, slamming his chopsticks down. 

“And I’m telling you that I know the area!” You rebutted, swallowing your bite, before carrying on with your point. “There’s at least three other restaurants that do that, what’s missing is a gourmet place.”

“Will you let it go?” He sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. “If we get there, we get there, if we don’t, then we’re still making fantastic food!” 

Wooyoung had a point, you knew he did. A valid one at that. 

“You’re insufferable,” you conceded, rolling your eyes and resuming your eating, trying to hide the smile pulling at your lips. 

“You love it,” he winked, picking up his chopsticks. 

And just like that, he threw you back into your loop. How could you simply let it go when this felt so familiar? When it reminded you so much of how you were? Light and carefree. Happy. You hadn’t noticed your eyes roaming around his figure, taking in his long dark hair pulled back by a ponytail, the way his eyes seemed to shine in the dull light coming from the stupid lamp he’d insisted on bringing in. 

This was his dream, wasn’t it? You remembered, because how could you forget the endless hours he’d spend talking about his own restaurant, managing his own kitchen, creating dishes, and cooking his favorites? You could tell by the small smile he sported as he ate, looking around the room with star-filled eyes. 

You didn’t know quite how you fit into this. You never amounted that one conversation, years ago in your Paris apartment, up to anything more than daydreaming. Though, right now, the moment felt tangible, you could grasp it in your hands if you wanted to. He'd given you a new dream to chase right when you thought you were over. 

“You’re looking at me weird,” Wooyoung waved his chopsticks in a circle around your face, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry,” your eyes fell back to the almost empty plate, moving the last bites of food around. 

“I didn’t say it was bothering me,” his voice was lower, almost a whisper, and you felt your heart drop. When you looked up, you didn’t know what to make of his expression. It looked like he was contemplating his following words, and you were all but hanging from his lips. He stayed quiet, eyes downcast on his plate, and shot you a short smile. 

You let the radio fill the silence between you, allowing the thoughts to pester your mind. Though, like a cup overflowing, there was little you could do to cage them and push them down.

“Wooyoung, were you-” his eyes rose to meet yours, and you stopped for a second, mulling the question over, savoring its bitter taste in your mouth before spitting it out as if it were a seed that ruined your bite. “Who were you going to open the restaurant with?”

His wide eyes told you all you needed to know, and yet his stunned silence pulled another set of words out of your lips.

“You said you needed a co-owner first…” you rasped, almost shocked you were still talking through the cotton in your mouth. Wooyoung set his chopsticks down, trying to hide the way his hands started trembling, sighing.

“We made a good team, didn’t we?” his voice was quieter, wondering. He shot you an uneasy smile, so short and so small you almost missed it. “I know you’re a great chef and we want this to be a great restaurant.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, feeling the weight of memories unloading on both your shoulders, their presence demanding the unwanted plunging into deep, murky waters. “Does it have, uhm… does it have anything to do with-”

“Let’s not open that can of worms, mh?” He cut you off immediately, sounding a tad harsher than he had before, rubbing salt into your matching wounds. 

“I just-” It felt like you were gasping for air, grasping at any lifeline you were afforded, lost in the swirling sea that were his pained eyes. 

“I know.” 

A mangled victory, or a loss, the way his voice sounded resolute. It allowed no space for you to counterattack, to try and pry any other thought out of him. And you accepted it, simple and plain, with no complaints. You had no right to. Nodding, you averted your eyes, affording him space. 

“I-” Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. The conflict in his mind was reflected on his face clear as day. Before his eyes were back on you, they looked around the room. “I missed you.”

Bearing his heart, that was what he was doing. It felt like, despite everything, he was still offering you a small piece of it. Your breath caught in your throat. Three words that held huge implications and a heavy past. One right answer, a truthful one, that could sound highly hypocritical of you. But you had to say it.

“I missed you, too.”

Wooyoung smiled, small and tentative, but still as warm as sunshine. You smiled back. 

The night was as cold as you felt despite having his arms wrapped around you, offering you shelter from the biting wind. Tonight the twinkling lights of the city below you couldn’t offer their usual comfort. You knew what was going to happen as soon as you opened your mouth to speak; you’d be breaking his heart along with yours. But you had to, hadn’t you? Wooyoung would understand. 

“Don’t you want to stay here forever?” He mumbled in your ear, his warm breath making you shiver. You kept staring out at the Parisian lights, heart sinking with every beat. 

“I-” you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing there was a way to prevent the hurt you were about to put him through. Never mind about yourself, all you cared about was him. Always him. Then why are you doing this? Sounded something in the recess of your mind. You shushed it. The lump in your throat formed out of the blue, making it hard to utter the next words.

“I wish I could,” you whispered, hoping your words would get lost in the wind, bracing for impact when you felt him tense and pull away from you. A gust blew by, chilling you to the bone now that he wasn’t holding you anymore. The look in his eyes sparked burning regret in your heart, setting it aflame.

“What do you mean?” 

He had taken a step back, confused eyes searching for yours. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when you were about to break all the promises you’d made right along with his heart. What a coward.

“I was offered a job in New York,” you began, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “I took it… I leave next week.”

When you finally mustered enough courage to look back at him, you saw betrayal shining clear in his eyes, swirling in disbelief, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. It was almost as if you could hear his thoughts, and each of them cut a deeper wound. 

How could you? Why didn’t you tell me? I would've been happy for you. We could’ve made other plans. 

“Were you just going to disappear from my life forever, then?” He spat, a little angry, a little sad. 

“No, Wooyoung, I-” you tried to reason, knowing very well that no excuse would hold. He scoffed bitterly, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jacket like a hurt kid. Already hard to talk through the burning in your throat, the tears springing in your eyes didn’t make the task any easier.

“Save it,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “I should’ve known. I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for there,” he made to go, but you couldn’t let him, not yet. 

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” He stopped dead in his tracks; you’d said the wrong thing. But you couldn’t hide your hand now that you’d thrown the stone. “Is it not our dream to learn and travel when all of this is done?”

Wooyoung shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, and to some extent, you couldn’t either. 

“No, I wouldn’t have, Y/N. It may be your dream but it isn’t mine. Not anymore, not since I met you. So, yeah, I would’ve given it all up,” he all but yelled, each word was like a punch in the gut. Despite the noise of the city below, the beat of silence that lingered sounded louder than any of it. 

“Go to New York, love. It’s your dream after all,” he conceded, voice dying down and broken, softer, like some sort of realization had dawned upon him. He blinked away his tears, still, you refused to let yours fall. 

In a second he was close to you again, his smell and warmth engulfing you once more. A sob broke through you when you felt his arms wrapping around you tight, and another was pulled from you when one of his hands came to softly rake through your hair. Wooyoung surrounded you with all he was, holding you tight, almost as if he loved you. Almost, you thought, because you knew the difference, for you had felt what it was to be loved – truly loved – by him. But you went and broke it. Now, you had to put love out of the question, and think only of duty. You had made your choice, after all, and he knew it too. 

“Goodbye,” in an instant you were left on your own, cold, and watched as he walked away from you, his whisper resonating in your soul, breaking it with each echo.

If you chose to follow your dream, then why did it hurt so much?

-

Sundays used to be your day off. You’d wake up at midday, usually to a ray of sunlight harshly shining into your face until you could no longer bear its warmth. You’d roll out of bed and lazily proceed to tidy your apartment and rot on the couch for the remainder of the day. Now, though, you were a restaurant owner and Wooyoung insisted you should stay open on Sundays because two out of three of the restaurants in your area were closed. So, you rolled out of bed, taking just one second to admire the first rays of sunlight shining through the fading, dark night sky. You sped through your routine and breakfast, having sacrificed that slot of time in favor of five more minutes of sleep. 

Despite the fast-approaching summer, the morning air was still rather chilly, and much quieter than the rumbling of cars and city rustle that you were used to. You didn’t have to squeeze past sleepy teenagers and angry old ladies on the bus and got to choose which seat to sit in. You didn’t mind early Sundays. 

In no time you’d open the restaurant. Today you’d convinced Seonghwa and Yeosang to drop by for lunch; you needed them to test out the menu you and Wooyoung had carefully crafted. Of course, at the mention of free food, both of them agreed, so there wasn’t much convincing involved after all. A sort of test run before the grand opening. 

The restaurant stood before you in the quiet street, looking close to the eye. You smiled proudly, producing the key from your bag, opening the door, and closing it behind you after walking in. The room was quiet, the only indication of someone being in there was the rustle and faint light coming from the kitchen. 

“Hey, Woo,” he was already there, setting out pans and pots. You walked in, reaching for your jacket. 

“Hi!” Although his head was hidden in a cupboard, you could hear his cheery voice loud and clear. “Are you ready?” 

When he emerged, he was sporting a happy smile, contagious enough to make you chuckle.

“As I’ll ever be.” 

Wooyoung smiled at you, beckoning you over to the station where a copy of the menu lay. You sure had your work cut out for the day. Up until then, between the furnishing and taking care of the more bureaucratic aspect of opening a restaurant, cooking together hadn't been common. You were thrilled to finally share the kitchen with him again. 

“Hey! The rolling pin is there to keep you off my half of the counter,” you huffed, trying your best not to let your irritation show. Not while you were trying to close dumplings perfectly. 

“Oh, come on!” He protested, “I can’t believe you’d still do that, look at how much space we have!”

“Yeah, and somehow, you’re still taking up most of it,” Wooyoung grumbled under his breath, finally moving a few of his bowls and pans to make space for you. 

“Gee, thanks,” although you weren’t trying to rile him up, you still ended up falling back into old habits.

“Oh my-” he rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, moving a couple more things, “You’re the bane of my existence.”

“You literally asked me to be your co-worker!” You laughed, shocked, but amused.

“And there’s not a day I don’t regret it,” with his nose in the air, trying and failing to hide a smile, Wooyoung resumed his meat slicing. You scoffed, not really offended. It was so easy to breathe when things felt as light as they did. A smile threatened to open up on your face, but you had an act to keep up. 

Silence used to be rare between the two of you, yet you liked it now. There was no awkward space to fill anymore, not a single word to be wasted. You worked in tandem, like a well-oiled machine, chuckling at Wooyoung’s occasional jokes and exchanging instructions. It felt good. It felt like it used to. 

“Are you nervous?” You asked him as you finalized the prepping for the second course. Wooyoung looked up, flashing that smile of his that could rival the sun.

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Are you?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and focusing on the bowl under your nose. The sauce you prepared to marinate the fish had a pungent note it shouldn’t have had. You didn’t notice him slipping closer to you, right at your side. Wooyoung was leaning on the counter, facing you. 

“You’ve got nothing to be worried about,” his voice aimed to soothe, and it did, sweet like honey. “Are you or are you not one of the best chefs in town?” 

You looked up at him, scoffing, ignoring the heat on your face that his closeness brought along. 

“See, now you’re exaggerating!”

“I’m not.” 

“Are, too!” A soft laugh escaped the two of you, and when he looked at you, eyes so full of hope and happiness, your breathing stopped for just a second. “But you’re right, it’s gonna be okay, I’m just… I don’t know, I want them to like what we made.”

“They’re gonna,” he shrugged. Only when you gave him a questioning look he answered. “Because we made it.” 

It looked like Wooyoung still knew what to say and when to say it to put your nerves at ease.

-

“Can I have some more?” 

“Me too!”

“You can’t ask that!”

“Says who?” 

“Alright, we’ll make it,” Wooyoung quelled the discussion that was about to start quickly, coming back into the kitchen with empty plates.

Two of his friends had joined yours for lunch, not that the food was lacking, but it seemed that Yeosang and San had promptly bonded over their love for one particular dish. Gamjatang, which wasn’t even on the menu, the two were just bottomless pits, apparently. The only one coming to your aid with restaurant etiquette was Seonghwa, whose reprimanding went unheard. Hongjoong stuck to silent side-eyeing, which barely helped. 

“Should we consider adding it to the menu?” Wooyoung joked, coming over to the stove where you stood, already heating up what was left of the broth from the previous batch. You thanked your lucky star you had some ready, or else they’d had to wait hours to eat.

“Let’s make it available only after eleven, though.”

He laughed, reminding you how you closed at midnight while washing and cutting up the mung bean sprouts, crown daisy leaves, perilla leaves, and green chilies you needed to add later on. You went for the pork bones, potatoes, and cabbage leaves.

Wooyoung set his bowl of vegetables close to the stove, ready for you whenever.

“Do you need more seasoning base?” He asked as you put your portion of ingredients into the pot. 

“Yeah, there’s not much left,” you looked at him, waiting for your word to start. “Thanks.” 

He smiled, getting to work quick.

As everything simmered and cooked, the two of you stood in front of the stove, silent, side to side. Outside, you heard your friends all talk and laugh, but they sounded miles away. Once again, you thought you knew what was running through his head. The night when he taught you how to cook the dish, the way he followed your every step with an encouraging smile. How your heart fluttered when he kissed your lips right after his first bite, saying that there was no way he was ever going to cook it again if yours tasted much better. How one night you tipsily tried to cook it together, almost spilling the batch of broth you saved in the fridge and ruining it all, but could only laugh until your stomachs hurt because somehow it was the funniest thing ever. After all, they plagued your thoughts as well. 

When the timer went off and he looked at you like a deer caught in headlights, you smiled, trying to ease away the tension that had bubbled up, going to kill the flame and plate the dish. 

You passed him a full bowl with shaking hands, praying he didn’t hear the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

“Maybe you should take away the wine,” Seonghwa sported a light frown on his lips when you made your way to the table with the other bowl in your hands. You furrowed a brow, noticing the way San and Yeosang were giggling a little too loudly, and how the former was particularly flushed, only after setting the dish in front of him. 

“Good idea,” Wooyoung snickered, scurrying back into the kitchen with the bottle. You watched him go, debating if to follow or give him space. You decided to stay, asking your guests how they liked the food. 

Seonghwa ended up giving you precious input and feedback, over the laughter coming from the opposite end of the table. It made you smile. Despite how interested you were in your friend’s recap of the things he appreciated the most about appetizers, you couldn’t help but glance a little worriedly at the kitchen doors from time to time. Wooyoung was still in there.

“Alright, we should go,” Hongjoong, who had simply complimented your cooking with a polite smile, spoke up after a while. San protested a little but stopped his efforts to stay pretty quickly when his friend said he was going to have no ride home. 

The two made their way to say their goodbyes to Wooyoung in the kitchen, leaving you with your friends. 

“We should go, too,” Yeosang stood, walking over to the doors with you and Seonghwa. 

“Thank you guys for coming,” you quickly hugged them both. “Drop by whenever.”

“You know I will,” Yeosang giggled, making you smile. 

“Keep it up!” Seonghwa said, walking out first. You waved them both off, and when you turned around, you were faced with San and Hongjoong. The former complimented your food, saying he’d bring over friends and family, rambling a bit. You giggled as he spoke, thanking him. 

“Thank you for having us, the food was delicious,” Hongjoong watched over San making his way out of the restaurant after saying his goodbyes, turning to you with a small smile. “Can I ask one thing of you?”

Your brow furrowed, but you nodded quickly. He sighed.

“I know you two have a complicated past,” he started, sending a jolt of anxiety through you. “And I see you’re doing great despite it, so, please, just… don’t hurt him again.” 

“I would never,” you were furiously nodding, suddenly your throat felt a little dry, hands all clammy. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong smiled, walking out as well, leaving you dumbfounded and staring at their disappearing figures. 

You waited in silence for a while, mulling his words over in your head. When you turned around and saw Wooyoung leaning against the kitchen door’s frame with a bright, wide smile adorning his lips, the sight almost gave you a heart attack. He laughed loudly seeing your spooked reaction, making a smile appear on your face. His laughter only served to make your heart stutter like butterfly wings, having barely recovered from the surprise, making you giggle as well. 

Wooyoung looked so happy that you felt you could burst at the seams. 

“They liked it!” You could barely contain your excitement as you locked up and started to make your way over to him, almost with a skip in your step.

“They did,” he smiled back, eyes scanning your figure until you were right up in front of him. Not even thinking twice, you let your arms sneak around his shoulders, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. You even swayed side to side. Wooyoung laughed happily, his own arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“I’m so happy,” you murmured when your excitement quelled. Your chin was resting atop his shoulder, and his on yours. When he spoke, quietly, you could hear the smile on his lips right against your ear.

“I’m glad,” he said. “Me too.” 

It was quiet. For the first time since that morning there were no friends laughing at the table, no bickering in the kitchen along with the sizzling of the pans, chopping on the cutting board, and rumbling of the pots. 

Just you and him. 

Your heart was still racing, over the moon for the success of your menu, but also quickened by his close proximity. Once realization struck that you’d pulled him into you, you were quick to let go, though his arms around your waist wouldn’t let you wander far.

“Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” the look in his eyes was enough to send your heart to your feet, air stuck in your lungs, and take you back in time, just for a second. It was all it took for you to want to pull away from him as if you’d gotten shocked. You found that you couldn’t. Not when Wooyoung held you a little tighter, searching for anything in your eyes that would prompt him to stop leaning even a breath closer. 

Frozen in time, in your spot, your grip on his kitchen jacket grew impossibly strong. 

When his nose softly brushed against yours, as if he’d sensed your mind wandering far and wide and wanted to bring you back to him, and you saw how his half-lidded eyes were holding a simple question, you pulled back.

“Should we get to cleaning up?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes closed, for a fleeting second, before he started nodding.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be here all night,” he cleared his voice, arms falling from around you. He offered a smile so small that it barely showed, the moment gone as soon as it came. You watched as he disappeared behind the kitchen doors, shoulders dropping and eyes falling close. 

You gave yourself a moment, just one, to relish in his closeness. The closest he’d ever been to you in years, something that used to be so familiar and still sparked the same goosebumps, the same erratic heartbeat. You sighed, following after him. 

-

You couldn’t sleep. You hadn’t for a good week. 

Between the imminent opening of the restaurant and the newfound awkwardness between you and Wooyoung, your head was so full of swirling thoughts that, as soon as you closed your eyes, it prevented you from enjoying one singular night of rest. They just kept going, growing into a never-ending spiral of what-ifs and exploding into a hurricane of beating yourself up. 

By now you’d given up on trying to make sense of your feelings. All you knew was that you wanted to keep Wooyoung to your side, co-worker, friend, or lover, it didn't matter. Now that he was back into your life, you didn’t want to risk losing him again. Though, it got increasingly hard to ignore how you wished he would stay with you once you closed the restaurant. How you wanted him to hold you like he used to, how you wanted to tell him every day just much of your love and devotion he had. 

It was still dark outside when you closed the door to your apartment behind you. Almost without thinking, you’d thrown the covers off of yourself and gotten out of bed, put on the first clean clothes you found, and got out of the house. The cold, crisp air of the night hit you right in the face, waking you up like an icy splash of water would have. You pulled your jacket closer around your body, starting the walk to the restaurant. The keys jiggled in your hand, one of the few sounds in the lonesome streets. 

Your heart had decided the way for you before your mind could catch up.

You’d always found solace in cooking. It allowed your mind to relax, and think about what was right in front of your nose, slicing through all your doubts and worries like a knife. With each step you followed, each accomplished passage towards the perfect result, you felt lighter and lighter. Then Wooyoung came along. Never could you have predicted that something else in your life would’ve been able to bring you the same comfort and brightness as cooking. 

Whatever peace and happiness you’d found in your passion, you’d also found in him. He set you alight. You’d been dumb and wrong enough to think that the feeling that came along with him could be replaced. 

But how could it? Once you let go if it, of him, Wooyoung had haunted all of your what-ifs. All of your darkest nights could only brighten up if you thought of his infectious laugh, his soft kisses, and his kind words. 

Reaching the restaurant brought you back out of your thoughts. You were here now, by some fateful design, with him again. You’d do anything not to lose your brightest star again. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You closed the backdoor behind you with a jolt, not expecting Wooyoung to be sitting at a table, illuminated only by the light coming from his beloved lamp. 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Ever so slowly, you made your way to him, trying to calm your racing heart. He raised his shoulders, avoiding your eyes a second later, shrugging as if he had no answer to your question. You sat with him, noticing just then the few papers scattered on the wood. 

“What’s on your mind?” The question fell from your lips in a quiet whisper, almost afraid to disturb the silence hanging in the air. You still knew him, after all, maybe even more than you gave yourself credit for. He sported that furrow in his brow, the one that lightly creased his smooth skin, that only showed up when something had been bothering him. 

“I-” he sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they didn’t waste a single second to find yours. Your mouth went dry. 

“You know what I hate most? That sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but always I miss you. And I never stopped torturing myself with the same questions over and over, why would you go? Did our dreams mean nothing to you? Did I mean nothing to you?” A bitter, void laugh fell from his lips. “But you’ve gotta move on, right?”

Oh.

Oh.

Heart in your throat, you were left speechless in front of his innermost thoughts. Thoughts you never imagined could be plaguing his mind still. But how could you miss it now? His eyes were begging for answers, after all this time, as if the dam had finally broken. You couldn’t bear to see them be so pleading, so misty. 

“That’s not true, I,” the words died in your mouth as you choked on them. “You must know it,” reduced to a whisper by the weight of truth, you tried to salvage what you’d so carefully rebuilt.

“Do I?” He sounded so helpless, your brain scrambled in all directions to find a way to convey how so untrue it all was. “You left me, Y/N, and sometimes I'm still there.” 

A gasp left your lips, his words squeezing the air out of your lungs. 

“We’re doing it now, isn’t it enough?”

Wooyoung shook his head, shoulders dropping in disbelief as he scoffed. Despite the dim light, from across the table, you could see his red-rimmed eyes begging you to catch on. You did, you had the second he started speaking, but you’d still said the wrong thing. 

“You’re so dense,” head thrown back, hands on his face, you waited for him to speak again. “Tell me why did you go.”

Not a question. Up against the wall, you felt the way your heart fell to your stomach, how nerves were tugging at it painfully. He needed this, and you were willing to give answers.

“I didn’t think,” you started, feeling so small under his gaze. “The only thing on my mind was that I’d made it. Selfishly, I thought you’d understand. I… I never meant to hurt you, and I know it sounds like bullshit, but it’s true. And when you told me to go, for a split second, I thought we could make it. I realize now how stupid I was. How there were at least ten ways in which I could’ve handled it better. I wish I’d fought for us,”

“I’m sorry. I really am, I-” Unshed tears started to run down your cheeks, wetting your mouth with salt. “There’s nothing I regret more than letting you go.” 

“We were meant to be, love,” his broken whisper was a sinking stone in your chest. Lifting your eyes to meet his, you saw the tear tracks on his desperate face matching yours. 

“But we were not meant to last,” there were few ways you could describe how your heart was hurting as you muttered the words, hand reaching forwards on the table. You didn’t think Wooyoung would hold on to it until he did. Fingers intertwined, you both held on painfully tight as if by letting go you’d get lost in the current the sea of your words had provoked. Each other’s buoy in a storm of unsaid words and unresolved, muddy feelings, so strong that with nothing they could tear you apart. 

You cried immersed in the dark silence of the restaurant hall, the place that crowned your dreams, listening to the other’s quiet sobs. 

“I’m sorry, forgive me,” you choked out again, trying to find his face past your tears. Wooyoung reached out to brush them away, his hands just as soft as you remembered, if not more careful. The moment his skin grazed yours, a shiver ran down your spine, electrified by such simple contact. His hand lingered for a long second, cradling your cheek before all you felt was its cold absence.

He stood up first, only to walk around the table and stamp a kiss on the crown of your head, his hand holding your shoulder. You froze, barely hearing how he murmured something about seeing you in the morning, barely breathing. What you did hear was the closing door, a sign you’d been left alone with your thoughts in the dimly lit room, knowing your ignorance had broken his heart again.

-

You didn’t know how to fix it. 

Standing and cooking side by side felt off again. You were walking on eggshells, treading on a fine line to avoid ticking off another bomb. If the weight of apologizing had been lifted off your chest, something much heavier now resided upon it. Knowing something had changed yet again, all because of how you’d acted. What you’d said. 

“You want to make ramen noodles? From scratch?” 

In the middle of cleaning up part of the station, you couldn’t help but let surprise seep into your voice. Wooyoung stared, nodding. 

“I thought we already made enough to last us at least two days…” You let your words fade out, not wanting to start an argument. His jaw set and you realized your efforts had been in vain.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry, at least until our new hires come in,” he shrugged, going to preheat the oven. He really was serious. 

You wondered why he was going through with this; you ran out of kansui, which was already hard enough to find, let alone expensive. In its absence, you’d need to prepare a substitute for it: baking soda that had to be baked in the oven for at least an hour to act properly instead of the kansui. It was such a waste of time when you had more pressing matters to attend to. Ones that didn’t need the help of your brigade. 

Breathing in deeply and deciding that keeping peace was essential, you assessed how Wooyoung was just lining the baking sheet with parchment paper and spreading the baking soda over it. You went to retrieve the whole wheat and bread flours you’d need in an hour, trying to keep frustration at bay. You’d think about the salt and riboflavin later. When you came back with the sacks, Wooyoung was already cleaning the rolling pins and pasta machine. With a grunt, you set them down on the counter, watching as he jolted in surprise.

“I’ll go call our supplier while we wait on the oven,” you really didn’t mean for your voice to sound so clipped. He seemed not to care, simply giving you a nod and going on with his task.

You left the kitchen almost stomping your feet in frustration, sitting down at the table furthermost from it. Whatever game Wooyoung was playing, it needed to stop now. You had tried time and time again, in the last few days, to get anything out of him. To try and patch things up and salvage them as best as you could. But you guessed he needed time, and with the opening just around the corner, you decided it was best to let him be. As long as you could work well together, everything would be fine.

Except the wall he’d put up was so high that you felt it was impossible to climb it or break through. 

The sound of the door opening brought you back to reality, reminding you that you needed to find the supplier’s contact and call, murmuring something about being closed to whoever had just come in. 

“I figured,” the voice made every hair on your skin stand, plunging you back into prickly, cold, anxious times. As you looked up, you could barely believe your eyes.

“Mr. Hwang,” his name left your lips in an incredulous whisper. 

“It’s been a while,” he looked around, coming in. His eyes were inspecting thoroughly everything they could lay themselves on, scrutinizing all that might be out of place, or all that wasn’t, and had the ability to spark envy in an enviable man. “Nice place.”

“How may I help you?” 

“I have an offer to make you.”

Wooyoung nearly stumbled on his feet. When he’d walked out of the kitchen to see if anything had come of your call with the supplier, the last thing he’d expected was seeing you sat at a table with your old boss, having a chat, exchanging laughter. He’d quickly retreated, leaving you to it, seeing red. He didn’t need to know what was going on, nor did he want to. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself as he stared, unable to do anything else, at the timer of the oven ticking by. Every second you sat out there, was a second he needed to reason with himself and find out what the menacing grip that held his heart was. All Wooyoung knew was that he wished you’d walk through the kitchen doors, a bright smile on your face, ready to get back to work. 

And when you did, he couldn’t quite figure out the look on your face. He was dying to ask what Hwang wanted, no matter what it was, he needed whatever words you’d utter to soothe his burning curiosity. But you never spoke, keeping up your diligent work even past the timer dinging, through the kneading of the dough, its thirty-minute rest, and the several compressions through the pasta machine. He observed you carefully, like he always had, as you used a long knife to cut the noodles by hand as he was occupying the noodle cutter of the machine. Were you slipping through his fingertips again? His eyes on you had always felt like an encouraging, gentle caress. Always looking after and out for you. Wooyoung never noticed or wasn’t fully aware, that sometimes they still did. More often than not you felt the need to step away, or look away, under his gaze, caving in under his affection. 

You felt that you didn’t deserve to be looked at so tenderly, not anymore. 

He searched for words to say as the several pieces of dough were turned into noodles, but nothing came to mind. Nothing sounded right, not even in his head. Wooyoung let silence win this battle, preferring to let the whirring of the machine and the slicing of your knife talk, trying to work out all the tangled threads that were his thoughts. It was easy to mess up the noodles and have them stick together in an unsalvageable way; then you’d have to make them into dough again and put it through the machine, compressing it until it was ready to be cut up. He tried to treat his thoughts with the same care as noodles to avoid starting over. But Wooyoung wasn’t having the same luck. 

Your muttering from the other side of the kitchen prompted him to look your way, struggling to find some space in the refrigerator for your sheet-pans. He hid his smirk, tossing the last of his noodles with cornstarch.

“Why?” You turned around, hands on your hips, irritation barely at bay. Wooyoung raised a brow, doing his very best at pushing your buttons.

“Why did we make so many fucking noodles when we are stocked full?” 

“Because we need them,” he shrugged. “They’re tedious to make from scratch, it’ll make our lives easier.”

“Then you make space for them,” you huffed, hastily walking over to the dishwasher to start filling it with the utensils you’d just finished using. 

“What did Hwang want?” 

Wooyoung bit his tongue, watching how your back straightened at his question. He’d tried to sound casual, but the question turned out to be anything but. He couldn’t keep it in anymore, the longer he did, the more his nerves tested his peace of mind. Wooyoung watched as you froze, halting your movements, before turning to face him again. The furrow of your brow as you raked your eyes over him accelerated his heartbeat in mysterious ways, waiting with bated breath for your answer.

“Nothing important,” but it was to him. Wooyoung’s thoughts had taken him places he didn’t want to revisit. His heart had been swallowed with an all-consuming and unkindly familiar pain at the idea of you leaving him behind. Hwang had offered you a lot in the past, afforded you to realize your dreams, he knew that much. What could he give you, then?

“Then why did you take so long talking to him?” One way or the other, Wooyoung had to exorcize the sinking feeling in his chest along with the overpowering green monster resurfacing with all its might. The only way afforded to him now was to venomously spit his words to you.

“I’m not trying to put us in a hard place with our number one competitor,” you closed the loaded dishwasher behind you, coming closer to him, clouding his senses. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes and you lifted a brow, crossing your arms. 

“Fine, be that way,” you carelessly threw the towel that was resting on your shoulder upon the counter. “He came back to try and persuade me to work for him again.” 

And there they were, the words Wooyoung had feared the most. Someone who would whisk you away from him again as he watched helplessly, feeding into his fears. 

“I said no, Woo…” your voice put a halt to every thought drowning him, your eyes full of the same softness your voice was. Giving up the fight, extinguishing the fire of his worries, at the cost of your disappointment. You swallowed the bitter bite. “Did you really think I’d go back, that I’d leave this? That I’d leave you?”

His silence was answer enough. You nodded, pressing your lips together.

“Well, I wouldn’t.” 

You weren’t going to let him think like that, not now. 

“I wasn’t happy there, and there’s not a single thing he could offer that would make me as happy as you do.”

Wooyoung watched, stunned into silence, while you got rid of your jacket and murmured something about still having to call the supplier. The timid smile you gave him, eyes full of warm hope, moved something inside him that had been slowly waking up ever since you bumped into him down the street months ago. 

-

For so long, he’d tried to move on. In the end, it turned out that you wanted different things from him, and he had to accept that. Wooyoung couldn’t convince you to stay if you wanted to leave. So, with his heart aching and bursting at the seams with the hope that eventually you’d be back, he let you go. There was no way he could describe how he felt when he saw you again. Surprise struck him, leaving him disoriented for a long moment before his mouth spoke for him. As if his body had reacted to the presence of yours, remembering what it felt like to have you close. 

No, Wooyoung wasn’t surprised that he so readily welcomed you back into his life. You were trying, that much he could see, but he was, too. There was a battle going on inside his head that left him frustrated and confused when it came to you, to his feelings for you. His thoughts laid their armor down only in your presence. His heart knew you were the only one he’d ever truly loved. A love that bloomed at the wrong time, a fragile flower that didn’t survive the winter. Wilted and withered, you’d left him to mend the gashes. 

He did, only if it meant learning how to be without you, burning with the hope that one day, if the time was right, together you could grow flowers anew.

The chance was right there for him to take, and yet. It had taken him just a couple of hours after closing the kitchen to decide he needed to see you, and set things straight once and for all. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The sun was just about to set, gilded light flowing into your apartment from the window, bathing you in its gold. Wooyoung’s breath caught. For a fleeting instant, nothing else existed besides your confused pout and his erratic heartbeat. 

“Can we talk?” 

You nodded, opening the door wider to let him in, gesturing for him to follow to the kitchen. The sweet aroma hit him first, enveloping him, and he saw the cutting board in the sink after. It didn’t take him long to figure out you were making blackberry jam. 

“You’re stressed,” the words left his lips before he could realize he’d spoken them, your head jerking in his direction as you kept stirring the pot, only to nod right after. 

“Well, yeah, the opening’s just around the corner now and we-” your eyes fell back on the stove, briefly avoiding his. “What did you want to talk about?”

Wooyoung hesitated. He didn’t know. Rather, he was sure he needed to make things right. Clean the suffocating air of uncertainty when it came to you and what you were to him. What he was to you. You two were always good at dancing in the dark but now, in the light of day, it was hard to fall back into rhythm.  

“I’m sorry about the noodles,” he bit his tongue. Way to start. 

How could he say what he wanted to when his head was on fire? Still, you were there, waiting, occasionally stirring your jam, making his heart skip. Wooyoung sighed.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving.” 

Your hand halted its gentle movements, he saw your knuckles turning white. 

“Wooyoung-”

“No, let me say this,” he was pretty sure his lungs almost failed him when you turned to look at him, wide eyed, hanging onto his words. “I don’t really know how to act around you. At first, I wanted to be mad. Just a little bit, but found out quickly that after the anger was gone, there wasn’t much left. Just the part of me that wondered if you’d ever come back, if you missed me like I missed you. And if I push all the confusion back, it’s as easy as breathing. I never expected to want you with me as much as I do.” 

You turned off the flame, walking closer. 

“I never meant you any harm,” you were picking at your fingers, almost subconsciously, just like Wooyoung’s hand reached out to twine with yours, halting your nervous motions. “I‘m sorry that I let you down, and that I hurt you.”

“I know,” he squeezed your hand with a small sigh, eyes cast on them. “We weren’t meant to last.”

The words bitterly echo in the quiet kitchen, almost lost in the burbling coming from the stove. Wooyoung was tempted to let go of your hand and walk out the door, fragile like a house of cards, as if it cost him his whole heart to tell you the truth. To expose his confusion in fear it may be an imposition.  

“No, Woo, not when I was so confused and only put my dreams first. Not when we had so much that we would’ve held each other from,” your watery smile hit him square in the chest, your words feeding his worries. “But I think we were always meant to be. I still… I’ve always held so much love for you.” 

Wooyoung stopped breathing, letting the sweet taste of your words wash over him.

“Can we start over?” you asked, tentative, searching his face for any sign that you may have crossed a line. “I want to be by your side, at your pace, we’ll be whatever you want us to be. I wasn't ready then but I am now, and I know it'll take time but I want you to know that I'll be there. No matter how long, I'll always be there.”

The unruled hope, that he’d been fighting to keep at bay, finally broke free and sparked a fire in his chest that swallowed up his heart, holding it in a fierce grip, burning. Your hopeful, misty eyes told him more than words could, more than he could ever dare to imagine. He had longed to see them from this close again. 

“Didn’t you say that mixing feelings with work is the recipe for disaster?” 

Behind the carelessly amused shrug of your shoulders, your untamed smile shined with bright happiness. The hand that wasn’t holding his tentatively rose to cup his cheek and Wooyoung wasted no time in leaning in and basking in its warmth.

“I think we’d make it.” 

Your promise was enough for him. Wooyoung rested his forehead against yours, finding home in your sweet perfume once again. You were finally back into his arms, to hold and to love. Once your lips met his hesitantly, almost afraid at first but feverishly at last, the sweet and pleasantly tart taste of your kiss assured his head and heart that everything would be alright.

[gabessquishytum]

Chef Hob is the new cook for the boarding school that Orpheus attends (Robyn attends as well with the steep tuition discount Hob gets as staff,,,,,,,one of the reasons Hob took the job). Orpheus has never tasted food the way that Mr. Hob makes it before. Everything tastes so good and interesting (the cooks at home are sooooo boring).

So when he goes home for breaks he keeps asking his dad and the cooks at home to make things taste like Mr. Hob does! Since neither Dream nor his team of live-in cooks know how to translate young teenager descriptions into food flavors, they and Orpheus are at a loss.

Dream decides to be somewhat proactive -- there is only so long he can stare at Orpheus's sad, woeful, face - next time he goes to pick Orpheus up, he asks him to introduce him to this amazing chef, Mr. Hob.

👨🏼‍🍳❤️👨🏼‍🍳🩷👨🏼‍🍳

It's the beginning of break and Hob is in the kitchen, with Robyn, working in menus for the meals for the small number of kids who stay on campus during the break (Hob hates how some of these rich parents treat their kids, leaving them alone over a holiday period at a mostly empty school. It's horrible.) Hob tries to make the foods especially fun for the left behind kids,,,,even planning some meals where the kids can cook with him. There's a reason all the kids think Mr. Hob is cool.

Any way, Hob and Robyn are in the school kitchen together (Hob is forever grateful that his boy still likes to hang with his old man.) when the most beautiful man walks into the kitchen. He's being pulled along by a kid Hob recognizes, Orpheus.

Orpheus shyly introduces his father to Hob (who happens to be staring at Hob as much as Hob is staring at him). Dream didn’t think school "lunch ladies" were allowed to be as attractive as Mr. Hob.

Alsksjdhsbav such a great au concept!!! I love it!!!!

Hob ends up showing Orpheus's dad around the kitchen, plus showing him the menus he's been planning out. Dream is suddenly acting like food is the most interesting thing in the world to him - Orpheus is very confused, because his dad would totally live off pizza rolls if he didn't have cooks making his meals. But he shrugs it off and goes to join Robyn making brownies. Orpheus enjoys baking - when he's not busy with his music, he does his best to attend the fun baking club that Mr Hob runs for the students at weekends.

Meanwhile, Hob is rambling on about the nutritious foods he likes to make for the kids, how he's really passionate about fostering a healthy relationship with food while they're young... Dream is hanging off his every word as Hob talks about the different dietary restrictions he caters for, how he got really into vegan food because of the kids, how he'd like to do more in the community but he doesn't have time to do much except occasionally run a charity bakesale. Dream thinks he is the most beautiful and interesting man in the entire world.

Eventually Hob gives Dream a copy of his recipe folder to take home, and he must see the way Dream looks a little bit helpless, because he laughs and offers to give a quick 'cooking 101' demonstration. Dream does not mention that they have chefs at home who could handle the recipes. He's too busy watching Hob dismantle an onion. Dream has never wanted to be a vegetable so much in his entire life.

Orpheus glances over, and even with his limited worldly experience, he can see that his dad is totally whipped for Mr Hob. Orpheus thinks that this is a good thing. For a start, maybe his dad will start eating better. And even better, if they start dating, Mr Hob will come over to their house and Orpheus will get to eat his cooking! He needs to encourage this relationship as much as possible. (And hey. It would be cool to see Robyn more, too. He makes GREAT brownies.)

[astranva]

Andrew Garfield talking about his girlfriend for 8 minutes video

Word Count: 1.2k

Category: Fluff

Warning: None

Summary: A fan makes a YouTube video of Andrew Garfield talking about you for 8 minutes straight.

..

When the news of you and Andrew dating got out three years ago, fans and the media had a field day.

It wasn’t because you were anyone famous—quite the opposite. Being someone with a normal job, you and Andrew had basked in finally going outside as a couple, and it was how adorable the pictures looked that had everyone freaking out.

One picture was of you laughing, Andrew’s arms around you from behind as he wrapped his coat around you as he wore it, a grin on his face.

Another picture was of you looking at him, eyes set on one another with his hands tangled in your hair, while the other was of him kissing you and despite the photo not being one in high quality, everyone could still see the small smirk he had as you kissed.

It was no surprise when fans posted edits of you together, and although the content they got was minimal, considering your lack of presence in interviews and public press, it was always a field day when you appeared beside him on a red carpet or when you both did as little as grab yourselves some coffee.

Andrew Garfield talking about his girlfriend y/n for 8 minutes straight

The 8-minute and 29-second video started with lofi music over an advertisement for marvel hoodies that everyone seemed to promote, before a sound of glitching television sounded and the video started.

The video started with Andrew and Zendaya’s Actor on Actor interview when they first started talking about Zendaya’s performance on Euphoria.

“Makes me want to cry. I didn’t feel like there was any acting. It felt like you were living through something in such an authentic way,” Andrew said, “And I remember I watched episode 5 with Y/N—with my girlfriend, and she was just like, ‘Andy, can you check up on Zendaya?’”

Zendaya smiled, being her usual self who got flustered at any compliment or praise, “She did text me that night, I remember.”

“She did,” he nodded, “She was so heartbroken over the episode.”

The video then moved to show Andrew during his Wired Autocomplete interview, the foam board in his hand as he took off the sticker that hid the question.

“Does Andrew Garfield sing in Tick, Tick…Boom?” He read, “So, Andrew Garfield does sing in Tick, Tick…Boom, yes. Thank you,” he answered, “I worked very, very closely with an amazing vocal coach, Liz Caplan, and all of Lin Manuel Miranda’s amazing musical direction team. They enabled me to open my voice up to the point where I could honor Jon’s songs and feel confident enough to belt them out as he always did when he was doing his one-man show,” he nodded slight, “It was a privilege to be able to learn a skill that I’ve always wanted to attain but my girlfriend wouldn’t really agree,” he chuckled, looking at the camera, “Y/N’s had enough of my singing, because every time I’d learn something new, it’d be the only thing I’d be doing around our home and she’s incredible, she has a job that she needs to focus on and rest from, but I was always there singing and annoying her,” he laughed, “She’s a gem for putting up with me.”

Another clip then played as Andrew read Buzzfeed’s thirst tweets, headphones on his ears.

“Andrew Garfield if you see this on your secret Twitter account, I’m free this weekend if you want to get lunch or drinks or something, just let me know. If you want to do it earlier, I can do dinner during the week,” he chuckled as he read the tweet, “But I’m usually busy before six,” he finished with a laugh, leaning back in his seat, “I love that. That’s very, very—I like hyper-vigilance. I like specificity of plans,” he said, “But I’m going to have to give you a rain check on that because I’m actually busy on the weekend, unless you want to join in on my girlfriend and I’s date, then it’s fine by me,” he laughed, “I can do lunch during the week though, but we’re going to have to have that at Y/N’s office because that’s where you’ll usually find me having my lunch.”

The clip then moved to Andrew on the Ellen show, getting asked about Spider-Man: No Way Home, and having to lie to people.

“Who knew? Beside your agent, who knew that you were doing this? I mean, how hard is that? To keep it to—I mean, your family knew?” Ellen asked him.

“Yeah, my dad, my brother, and my mother at the time,” he answered with a smile, “Yeah, just kind of us. It was fun to keep it secret,” he grinned, “Because you know when you’re planning a surprise birthday party for someone, and then you’re like, tell me, you know I hate surprises, but I can see it on your face that you’re just like ‘I’m not gonna tell you’,” he shook his head with his wide grin, “So it felt like I was part of organizing a surprise birthday party for a bunch of people whom I knew would appreciate it.”

“Did your girlfriend know?”

Beaming even more, “Y/N had no idea,” he said, laughing, “And—lying to the media, to the fans, that was easy and fun, but lying to my girlfriend has got to be—it was one of the most agonizing and terrible things I have ever done.”

“You lied to her for what? Two years?”

“Technically, it was a year and a few months,” Andrew pointed.

“And how—how did she take that? I’d be pretty offended.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “She wasn’t, she wasn’t. I knew she’d appreciate it because she knows how I feel about my experience with the character, and it was—I’ll tell you something,” he sat up, smiling, “It was worth every single moment where I had to tell her I was shooting for another movie when I saw her reaction when we went to watch it together,” he said, “We had to watch it again because she couldn’t really focus after I was on screen,” he laughed, “But yeah, it—it was definitely hard having to lie to her, and it definitely made her tease me about trust for a while, but she supported me throughout without even knowing.”

The clip then moved to the last one, being from a recent interview with GQ of 10 things Andrew can’t live without.

In a t-shirt and sporting a full beard, he held a silver necklace with a compass on it.

“This is a necklace with a compass on it,” he said, holding the necklace in his hands before the camera zoomed on it before it showed him again, “My girlfriend Y/N gave this to me in a period where I needed to trust the direction I was going, even if I didn’t know where I was going,” he chuckled, looking at it, “It’s become such a symbol of our relationship because in a way, to me, it feels like it navigates us both back to where we have always met, toward our common interests and our differences that initially made us attracted to each other. But she’s always been very persistent on her support for me and my journey in my career, and my journey as a person, so this necklace is just a reminder from her that the direction I’m headed in is always one I can find value in,” he smiled, “My relationship with Y/N is very essential to me. She’s just—She’s truly my person, and this necklace is a symbol of the deep connection we have with each other.”

[khristie16]

The Fast and Forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chapter 2 An unspoken connection gradually weaves between them—forged through chess, shared glances, and a mysterious musical encounter.

warnings: sweet af, sexual tension, invading privacy (not the intention), sentimental and romantic author's note: hi guuys, i missed you, uni gets the best of me the past couple months. I received some new requests and I have them all saved for future work. Don't worry, now I have more free time:) stay awesome! taglist: @buendiabebeta, @pondysselth, @clomo12345, @naty-1001, @maxv33rstappen, @f1lov3r, @cmleitora

The next day, I found myself 10,000 meters in the sky, going at such a fast speed that I was relieved my stomach didn't protest. Our destination was Charles's home. I'd never been to Monaco, and my curiosity grew as we got closer. What would it be like standing in the middle of a street, taking in all the beautiful scenery with my own eyes? I adore the sea and warm weather, the culture, and the food. I appreciate different things. That's one more reason I took this job — the chance to travel. It can really shake up your whole routine, but the opportunity to see Monaco and Singapore in less than a week was unimaginable just two months ago. Thank goodness this job pays well.

Watching Charles absorbed in his iPhone made me feel unwelcome. It seemed like I could make funny faces, and he wouldn't even notice. It wasn't a new feeling for me. Sometimes, during quiet nights, I wondered why he was so distant, especially when I'd seen him be a sunshine around others. Initially, I thought it was because we were purely business for each other. But that could apply to anyone on the Ferrari team. Maybe I was overthinking it, and the simple reason was that he just didn't like me. I decided to let it go; there were better things to focus on. Tilting my head, I wondered if things might improve over time. Silently grumbling, I readjusted my seat, still lost in thoughts about him.

"Hey, do you play chess?"

I looked at him like he was an alien and gulped nervously. Yes, I had played chess — once. And to top it off, I was still learning the basics. Not something I was proud of, but hey, not everyone can be Ron Weasley. I laughed like a maniac at my own joke, resulting in his raised eyebrows.

"Sorry… and no, I've never learned."

Surprise and interest showed in his body language as he leaned closer, his blue T-shirt moving against his skin. With a surprisingly high-pitched voice, he laughed.

"Really?"

Fire me or spare me, but please, not this. I didn't know where to focus first — on his beautiful dimples or the fact that he just laughed at me? The smile vanished from his face as he seemed to notice my confusion, but he still smiled with his eyes.

"I mean, I'm surprised. It's like when Carlos once told me he listens to jazz in the morning."

I burst into laughter. It sounded so much like Carlos.

"I just thought you played chess. You look so serious."

Okay, this is getting worse. I must have looked like a crazy woman with diagnosed schizophrenia, and he tells me I look serious? Tell that to a woman, and you shut her down completely. Readjusting my seat again, I focus on the rug under the wooden table.

"I can teach you if you want."

Lifting my gaze, I try to find some hidden answers behind his green eyes, but all I feel is a hot sensation in the pit of my stomach. Wearing a white tank top, I know it's not because of the fabric. He's genuinely smiling, and I take a pause to exhale before nodding my head.

"Do you like to play a lot?"

I ask to smooth things between us, but he just nods and focuses back on the chess pieces on the board. Turning my head to the side, I notice that the closer, the less cloudy it is outside, and I feel an energetic shiver run down my spine.

"I always win. But for you, — I'll make an exception."

My heart stops beating. Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?

After we landed, our shared ride slipped into an uneasy quiet. In the midst of my spontaneous chess lesson with Charles, laughter and focus filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere akin to the scattered energy of someone wrestling with ADHD. Amid our animated conversation, I lost track of our surroundings; the outside world turned into a distant blur.

A smile graced Charles's lips as he locked eyes with me. In that shared gaze, a fleeting connection unfolded. Happiness shimmered in his green eyes, and an unexplainable urge to draw closer wrapped around me. It felt as if his eyes held a depth I yearned to explore. However, the moment dissolved abruptly. Charles, with a subtle shift in demeanor, reverted to his usual aloofness, extinguishing the warmth that had briefly ignited between us.

"I got my keys copied for you in case you need something from my apartment," he offered, extending the keys.

An unexpected gesture left me grappling with a mix of surprise and uneasiness. Taking the keys, I delicately stashed them into my bag, careful not to make direct contact with his skin.

"My driver will first go to your place. Tell him the address," Charles instructed. Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat, seeking distraction by scanning the outside world. Families strolled happily, painting picturesque scenes. A flicker of yearning for such simplicity rose within me—an ache for a love that protects and cherishes.

"YN?" Charles's voice interrupted my reverie, demanding my attention.

"I don't have a home," I stated matter-of-factly, my gaze returning to the outside world. Despite the nonchalant tone, the admission carried a weight that lingered in the air.

"I need to visit some company for renting a flat here."

I took in a deep breath, feeling the cool air settle around me. My eyes drifted down, observing how the white tank top hugged my body like a second skin, accentuating the curves beneath. Fingers idly played with the fabric, a quiet excitement brewing inside. In my mind, thoughts twirled, a hidden longing to peel away the clothing, exposing the vulnerability beneath. And this is what Charles does to me. And it is getting dangerous.

"I know a place," Charles declared. He reached for his phone, dialed a number, and engaged in a focused conversation. His determined expression and the play of his toned arms intrigued me. A heat lingered in the air, intensifying the atmosphere within the car.

"Ciao l'amigo," Charles spoke into the phone.

Charles's words flowed, a steady stream escaping his perfect pink lips. My gaze fixated on his profile, an intense scrutiny fueled by a hunger simmering beneath the surface —an irresistible force tempting me to devour him, a longing I hadn't anticipated when accepting this job.

The struggle intensified, threatening to override the professional boundaries I had naively assumed would be steadfast. As Charles's eyes met mine, a sudden freeze paralyzed me in place. His gaze lingered, delight evident in the subtle nuances of his expression, as if he sought to unveil the secrets hidden in the depths of my eyes. The hum of conversation from his friend acted as a backdrop to this silent exchange, heightening the tension that hung between us. I braced myself in anticipation, uncertain of what he sought to uncover.

Abruptly, his attention shifted, his head turning back to its previous position. A wide smile adorned his face as he concluded the call, the sheer charm of it momentarily rendering me breathless. Even without facing me, he seamlessly transitioned to a task on his phone, leaving me suspended in a state of uncertainty and unspoken intrigue.

"I found you a free apartment. Do not worry about money," he said, his attention now absorbed in his phone, leaving me to deal with the unexpected twist.

Days slipped away, and the looming Grand Prix trip to Japan demanded my attention. I meticulously handled remote tasks for Charles, consciously keeping a distance to avoid the unraveling of my composure under the weight of desire. Knowing Charles would be engrossed in a morning squash match with his brothers, I discreetly seized the opportunity to attend to a domestic task: swapping clean laundry for the soiled.

Entering his apartment, arms loaded with bags, I navigated purposefully down the hallway. A distant melody reached my ears, halting my steps. Recognizing the tune, my thoughts paused, and I followed the enchanting notes to their origin.

In the sunlit living room, a grand piano stood like a silent sentinel. There, orchestrating a melancholic melody, was Charles. Our eyes met as I stood there, and he smiled in response to the unexpected serenade.

"That's 'Sadness and Sorrow,'" I stated the obvious, and Charles observed me cautiously. Surprisingly, I overcame hesitation, moving closer and placing my hand on the piano keys. Each note, played with sincerity, carried a hum of remembrance. Charles shifted, creating space for me to join him. As I sat down, my focus on the piano, he positioned his hands beside mine, and we began to play in harmony.

Eyes closed, I allowed the music to transport me, feeling the warmth of our synchronized notes. The vibrational waves between us painted an imagined scene, where I lay on the sea's surface, gently swaying with the waves.

The room resonated with harmonious echoes, our shared melody creating a tangible connection between Charles and me. Vibrational waves seemed to ripple, as if an unseen force wove a tapestry of connection, binding our notes into a seamless symphony. Amid our synchronized play, the world around us faded, and I found myself transported to a different realm.

In my mind's eye, I lay on a mat, gently drifting atop the surface of a tranquil sea. The sun cast a warm embrace, painting the water with hues of gold and azure. The waves, like delicate fingers, played a tender serenade, cradling my body with rhythmic caresses. I surrendered to the immersive sensation, the music becoming the gentle current that carried us on this shared journey.

With Charles beside me, the connection forged through the shared music was palpable, creating a timeless moment where the ordinary world ceased to exist. It was a serendipitous encounter, a convergence of hearts and melodies, leaving me suspended in the beauty of our shared composition on the sea of music.

A genuine smile adorned my face as we played, stealing glances at Charles. His concentration on the music was profound, but when our gazes met, I detected an ocean of emotions in his eyes. The desire to caress his cheek and offer comfort overwhelmed me.

Our fingers danced on the keys, minds lost in the melody. As Charles and I maintained our gaze, I discerned a myriad of colors in his eyes, each shade revealing a facet of emotion that resonated with the melodic symphony we created. In this suspended moment, his face drew nearer, an invisible force pulling us together until we were so close that our breaths mingled, and the air became a shared essence.

The piano keys, now a conduit for our unspoken connection, echoed the final cadence of the song. With a delicate touch, my right arm, closer to him, found a resting place on my thigh, bridging the physical space between us. As the final chords resonated, the room held its breath, encapsulating the unspoken intensity of our shared musical communion. And Charles, hesitating only briefly, mirrored the gesture, his eyes lingering on my lips.

"You're the boat I would protect in my full stormy ocean," he spoke, and the sweet sentiment ignited warmth within. In that moment, nothing else existed but him and his words, a connection forged through music and unspoken understanding.

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand; Part 3

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Warnings: OOC Simon (kinda?), fluff, alcohol, pregancy, talks of abortion, vomiting,

Summary: Its been 3 months since your night in the sheets with Simon and your life just got a whole lot more complicated.

A/N: I know, I know. okay. I get it. Not everyone like the pregnancy trope, so if you dont im sorry. If i lose some readers for this then im sad to see you go but i hope to see you in future writings i do for the COD men. This is not going to be like other pregnancy tropes that get all mushy and fluffy and light after. This story will be filled with dark themes coming in later chapters that i hope will keep people interseted. We all know Simon Riley's life cant be easy, so if you're still here after this part. Buckle up. Its a wild ride.

Word Count: 5,015

New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2

The bar looked exactly the same as it did three months ago. The music wasn't as loud, but that was probably because it was still early. Many people were still at work at 5pm on a Thursday.

Not you, you had found a job working online, writing articles for business pages. It wasn't the most exciting thing in the world but it paid well, and it occupied most of your time. An added bonus of not leaving for work was you never had to worry about coming home from the office to find someone on your couch. You shake your head trying to clear the thoughts. You weren't even 100% sure why you were here, the chances that Soap even knew Simon were slim. But he had said he knew almost everyone that came to the bar. 

So there was a chance.

One you couldn't pass up, you had to at least try.

Wrapping your coat around you tighter, you walk into the bar. The dim lights reflect off the shiny tables. A few people sit at them, watching a replay of a game on tv. You glance around behind the bar, looking for the familiar mohawk. 

It pops up from behind the bar towards the end, Soap holds a bin of limes in his arms. He sets the bin down on the shiny black countertop, pulling a small cutting board out from the top of the bin and a knife. He slices a lime in half as you slide into the seat in front of him. His blue eyes meet yours and a smile breaks out on his face. 

“Lass! Good to see ya, you disappeared on me the last time ye were here!” He smiles, turning the lime and cutting it again. 

“Sorry about that, I needed to clear my head, I hope I didn't upset you,” you smile back, placing your hands on the bar.

“Nay, what can I get for ye? Vodka Soda?” he asks, setting the knife down as he turns towards the shelves of alcohol behind him.

“Uh, actually, can I just have water instead?” You bite your bottom lip and Soap nods, grabbing a glass and filling it. He slides the glass of water in front of you, and you stare down into it. 

“Everything okay?” he asks, looking at you with one raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah, I'm fine. Early day tomorrow ya know? Don't want to be hung over is all.”

“Aye i get that, so what brings you here?” Soap leans his forearms against the bar, “Miss me?” He smiles.

You can't help but roll your eyes, “Oh totally,” you laugh.

“I knew it, not many women can resist the MacTavish charm,” Soap grins, he stands back up and picks up the knife. He cuts each lime into wedges before putting them in the bin, you reach over grabbing one from the cutting board and squeeze it into your water. 

“Aye! Paw off,” Soap smiles, shaking the knife at you. A smile of your own breaks out on your lips as you watch him. 

“You have plenty to spare, plus someone around here has to keep you busy.”

“I assure you Lass, the folk around here keep me plenty busy,” Soap points over your shoulder where Price and Gaz are walking in. They’re deep in a conversation as they make their way over to where you are sitting in front of Soap. 

Kyle is the first to notice you, and he pauses looking at you over. “Y/n, it's good to see you again, not going to lie. I was kinda sad you left without a goodbye last time,” Gaz takes the seat on the left.

“Sorry about that, I promise to say bye this time. I don’t want to bruise your ego,” You say over the rim of your glass. 

“Good, I don't think I can hear him wallow about it anymore,” Price says as he sits in the stool on your right. “So what do you think of London? Everything you could’ve imagined?”

“It’s alright… It rains a lot more than I'm used to, but it's not too bad. Definitely different from the small town I'm from,” you look over at him. He gives you a small smile, and turns towards Soap. 

“Soap, we ship out tomorrow morning, be ready at 0600 hours,” Price grunts as Soap puts the last lime into the bin. 

“Yes sir,” Soap turns towards the bottles of liquor on the shelf and grabs a bottle of bourbon. He sets it down on the counter with a soft thud, he then grabs two glasses for them, pouring each man two fingers. He slides the glasses across the bar to them, the acidic smell of the bourbon makes your stomach turn. Saliva pools in your mouth as you desperately try to swallow. 

“Oh uh, Soap, I wanted to ask if you knew someone actually,” You take a sip of water, your eyes following him as he moves behind the bar. Soaps bright blue eyes look over at you, his brows furrowed together. 

“I might,” he smiles. A loud noise from behind you startles you, and a drunken man tumbles into the back of your stool. His drink spilling down your back as he leans against the back of the barstool, the smell of the alcohol hits your nose. 

“Oops,” the drunken man mumbles, his breath wafting over your face.

Your stomach rolls, as Price and Gaz help the man up. Gaz and Price half drag him away from you as he continues to mumble about his drink. Gaz says something and pats him on the chest as they pull him to the door. You stand from the chair, the fabric of your coat and shirt now sticking to you. Nausea rolls through you as you try to breathe through your mouth. 

“You alright lass? You look a little green,” Soap is now standing in front of you, a clean bar towel in his hands. He gently pats the towel against your soaked shirt and coat trying to soak up some of the liquid that's seeping into your skin. 

You can't answer, if you open your mouth you’re sure you’ll throw up so you push past Soap and hurry towards the bathroom. Soap follows behind you, pausing at the door to the women's room. You shove open one of the stall doors and drop to your knees. The cold tiles bite through the fabric of your jeans, as the contents of your stomach is emptied into the porcelain bowl. It takes you several minutes to stop dry heaving, your stomach clenching painfully with each contraction of your abs. When the feeling settles you stand, before rinsing your mouth out with some water from the tap. You grab a paper towel, wiping your hands and mouth.

“You alright in there?” Soap calls through the door, his voice laced with concern. 

“Yeah..” you call back, tossing the paper towel into the bin and pulling open the door, “Sorry about that.” You shove your hands into your pockets as you come face to face with Soap. His eyebrows knit together in worry as he looks over you, one hand hovers in the air as if hes going back and forth on if he should touch you or not.

“You su-” he pauses looking over your shoulder, his eyes widened slightly.

“MacTavish, the bar can't run itself…” A familiar voice rumbles, the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Memories of your night 3 months ago rushes back, that same voice that murmured praise to you as he pounded into you. 

You whip around, at the end of the hall stands Simon, his black hoodie pulled up over his head, his mouth and nose covered by a skull print face mask. His brown eyes widen slightly as he sees you. “Y/n…” he whispers. 

“You two know each other?” Soap muses from behind me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulder as he walks by. An uncomfortable silence settles over the hallway and Soap slips by, muttering “I’ll leave you two alone…” 

Simon takes a few steps towards you, and it seems like he takes up the whole hallway. You look up as he towers over you, his face is unreadable, he lifts a hand, brushing his fingertips across your cheek. It sends electricity skittering across your skin, your breath catches in your throat.

Over the past 3 months you have tried to forget about the man whose brown eyes haunted your dreams. Whose touch caused your mind to go blank. Like someone wiping a harddrive. But there was no forgetting, not anymore. He was here in front of you, sure, you had come to ask Soap if he knew him. But you hadn't expected to run into him tonight. You still had no idea what you were going to say to him. How do you justify just leaving his house at 3am?

“You could've said goodbye, you know… You didn't have to sneak out and call an Uber at 3am..” Simon whispers, and guilt slams into you. He knew you left. He wasn't asleep like you thought…

“I-I..” you stumble over your words, unsure what to say. There wasn't anything you could say really. You knew you should’ve just waited, dealt with the awkward small talk. Maybe even exchange numbers you would never plan on using. But nope.

Instead you fled. Just like you fled after your sister's funeral.

At least you were consistent. 

“I’m not upset, I understand.” Simon adds after a moment, his hands shoved deep in his pockets of his hoodie. 

“Simon.. I.. I’m sorry.. I’ve been going through a lot. And i didnt .. I couldn't face you after that. Not, not that you did anything wrong. Because you didn't! I mean you were great. I just,” You run a hand through your hair. “God, this is not how I wanted this to go.” 

“Breathe. Love, breathe.” Simons hands cup your face and you freeze. “It’s okay, like I said I'm not upset with you,” he lets his hands drop, and you nod. 

“I didn't know you knew Soap,” He muses, leaning against the wall. You shuffle your feet, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah… I met him the same night I met you… You know him too, yeah?” 

“Soap, Gaz, Price and I all serve together,” Simon rubs the back of his neck with his hand, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh! I don't know how I didn't pick up that you were military,” You bite your lip looking down at his black boots. 

“We didn't exactly get to know each other very much that night..” Simon says, and a small blush creeps up your cheeks at the mention of your night together. “So what brings you here tonight?” Simon asks.

The familiar feeling of nausea swirls in your stomach again, you clench your fists, nails biting into your palm. Something you have come to do a lot over the past few months. “I came here to ask about you, actually. I needed to talk to you..” You whisper, and Simon's brows furrow.

“Well you found me.. What did you need to talk about?” He asks, as you chew your bottom lip. Anxiety creeps into your chest, wrapping itself around your lungs like an icy hand. The air rushes from your lungs, your eyes burning with tears.

 How the hell could you turn this man's life upside down?

“Hey, hey,” Simon whispers, his large hands clasp your shoulders steadying you. The world feels a million miles away, like you were floating out in space untethered. Everything sounds muffled, and the lights are suddenly too bright in the hallway. You raise your shaky hands, running them through your hair. A large hand guides you down the hall a little until the bitter cold air of winter in London hits you. You gasp, your lungs filling with the cold air, goosebumps break out along your heated skin. 

The world slowly comes back into focus, soft murmuring in your ear as large arms wrap around your middle holding you against a solid chest. “Breathe, you’re alright, you’re okay… Just breathe, Love.” Simon murmurs into your ear. Tears fall from your eyes, trails of hot tears stream down your cold cheeks. 

“I’m sorry I left that night…” you gasp in between sobs, “and i am so sorry im going to say this…” You whisper the last part. At first you aren't sure Simon heard you but after a moment he turns you around. His arms are still around you as he looks down at you, your teeth starting to chatter from emotion and the wind.

“Whatever you have to say can't be that bad, love. Did you find out you had some like STI or something? Do I need to get tested?” He asks, his brown eyes searching your tear stained face. His hands moving up and down your body in an attempt to warm you up and comfort you at the same time.

You shake your head, if only an STI was the least of your problems. “N-no, i didn't give you anything like that…” you choke out.

Simon watches you as you stand face to face with him in the same alley you met him in 3 months ago. Although this time you’re different, instead of the woman who was caught in her own head. Who was running from demons he couldn't see, trying her best to show the world it couldn't break her. Instead standing in front of him was a woman who was scared, who looked so lost in the world, like she was barely hanging on. He studies you, even as you stand in front of him crying, your entire body shaking. You were still beautiful, and he would be lying if he said he didn't think about you. 

You had haunted him every moment since he heard you leave the apartment. When he heard the door click shut it took everything in him not to follow you out. But he didn’t, he laid there staring up at the ceiling until almost 5, before he got up and started making himself some tea. It was then he noticed the note you left your swirling handwriting on the scarp paper wishing him well. He was saddened to see you hadn’t left a way to contact you, but part of him understood. He had offered you a chance to get out of your head for a while. He hadn’t asked you on a date. He DIDN'T date. 

The onslaught of disappointment was tough for him to swallow. Simon was never upset when a woman he brought to bed left with no goodbye, and a hasty note. Simon preferred it that way, it was better if the one night stands didn’t stick around but for some reason Simon couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how your curves felt beneath his palms. The silky smooth expanse of your skin. The way your moans stirred something deep in him, or the way your eyes told him more than you ever would. 

Now as he looked down at you, standing in the darkened alley way. He knew whatever you wanted to say was about to bring his world crashing down. But instead of the overwhelming feeling to flee, that he normally had when confronting emotional issues like this. Simon wanted to hold you close and tell you that it was okay, that whatever it was you could face it and make it out the other side. During his years of doing interrogations and studying people he had learnt the signs of when someone was teetering on the edge. It was clear in your face and body language that you were one gentle gust of wind from toppling over. Crumbling into pieces he wasn’t sure anyone could put back together.

“What is it then Sweetheart? I’ll help you figure it out, whatever it is.” He whispers, pulling you closer to him, his body heat seeping into you, as the wind blows. You sniffle, your shaking hands coming up to swipe at the tears under your eyes. You take one last breath, eyes closed as you brace yourself.

“I’m pregnant.” 

It’s like the world stopped spinning.

Time was suddenly suspended, as you pried your eyes open to look at Simon. His brown eyes were guarded. His brows pulled together, as his hands stopped their motions for a fraction of a second. Your lungs burned from holding your breath, your throat tight. Every muscle in your body was tense, as you waited for him to say something. Do something. You needed some sort of reaction from him. Yelling, screaming, swearing, anything was better than the earth shattering silence that took place after you muttered the two words you hadn’t yet said out loud since you found out.

It wasn’t like you planned on getting pregnant by your one night stand. Hell. It was the LAST thing you wanted. You were always careful to get your birth control shot every 3 months. But with the chaos of the last few months, somewhere along the line you must’ve missed your last appointment. It wasn’t until you went into your appointment earlier today to get a shot that they had informed you they couldn’t administer it. That you were already pregnant.

“Okay.”

The word shocks you, and for a moment you aren’t sure you hear him right. You raise an eyebrow, as you look at Simon.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll figure it out.” Simon states, his hands resuming their soothing motion up and down your sides.

“You’re not.. not going to freak out?” You whisper.

“There’s nothing to freak out about, this isn’t just going to go away. So we need to talk about our options, and we will. Just got standing in the back alley of a pub.”

“Okay…” you whisper, as Simon’s hands guide you towards the emergency exit door that he brought you through. The inside of the bar is louder than before, more people have shown up. Soap, Gaz and Price are all talking at the end of the bar. Your glass of water is filled and sitting on a napkin. They all look over when you two walk over.

“Ghost, Soap was just telling me that you and y/n know each other. Small world isn’t it?” Gaz smiles, his brown eyes looking between us. 

“We do,” Simon turns to Price, “I’m going to be bringing her home, I’ll see you at 0600 tomorrow, Captain.” 

There’s a look that passes between Price and Simon, but he just nods, then turns towards you. “I hope to see you again, dear, maybe next time we can all have a nice meal.” 

“Maybe,” you smile, after waving goodbye to Soap and Gaz, Simon leads you out to the street where the cars are parked. 

“Did you drive here?” He asks, looking down at you.

“No I took the bus,” you shove your hands into the pockets of your coat. It was still wet from where the guy spilt his drink, and you shivered.

“I’ll drive you home,” Simon takes your hand, pulling you towards his truck. He pulls open the passenger door and waits for you to get settled in the seat before shutting it. You run your hands together as Simon climbs into the driver's seat. He starts the truck, turning the heat on high.

“Where do you live?” He asks, as he turns on the headlights. 

“On Ashton street, the apartment complex there” from the corner of your eye you see Simon visibly stiffened, but he doesn’t say anything as he pulls away from the curb. The ride is mainly quiet, neither one of you having much to say. As you get closer to your apartment your anxiety starts to grow again. What if he tells you to get rid of it? 

Is that what you wanted? What if he decided he would rather give it up for adoption? Would he help you find a family? Maybe he would tell you he didn’t want anything to do with a baby? Could you deal with a baby? Bile burns in the back of your throat, and you try to swallow it back down. You weren’t about to throw up all over his nice truck. The grimy bathroom of a bar was one thing, but Simon’s leather interior of his car was not an option. Simon turns down a side street, there weren’t many streetlights on this stretch of the drive. You try to focus on the passing shadows but the rolling and twisting in you hug doesn’t let up.

“Can you pull over please?” You whisper, and Simon glances at you. Your hands bunched in the fabric of your coat, your eyes closed as you take deep breaths. Simon eases the car over, barely putting the car in park before you flung the door open and hop out. You move a few feet into the woods, your hands scraping against the tough bark of a tree, as you get sick. Bile burns your throat and nose, tears stream down your cheeks. 

Warm hands gather the hair from your face and hold it back. Holding your hair back with one hand the other rubs up and down your back. It takes several minutes of dry heaving for you to be able to stand up. A handkerchief is suddenly floating in front of you. You take it and wipe your mouth with it, shoving it into your pocket after.

“You okay?” Simon asks, as you take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m okay, sorry..” you mumble, as you turn back to the car and climb back in. Simon doesn’t say anything as he climbs in and continues to drive to your apartment. As he parks his car, he glances around, his eyes resting on the boarded up windows of the glass door.

“Everything okay?” You ask, noticing as he stares at the glass like he’s trying to get it to tell him what happened to it.

“Yeah. Sorry, let’s go inside,” he mumbles, climbing out and coming to your side. He pulls open your door and offers you a hand. You walk towards the building Simon’s entire body is tense as some residents barrel out of the door. They’re shouting and swearing as they stumble out, a lit cigarette dangling from their fingers. Simon pushes you behind him, as they pass, he watches as they head over to a parked car and continue arguing in front of it.

“They’ll stop arguing after a while. They do this often..” you mutter to Simon as you take his hand pulling him towards the door. He grunts and follows you up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. You hesitate, your hand on the knob as you take a deep breath. Entering was always the hardest part now, every time your hand touches the handle the images of your family break through the mental box you shoved them into. You let out the breath you were holding and pushed open the door. Flicking on the light switch next to the door. 

Your eyes falling on the empty couch against the far wall in the living room. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders as you stare at the threadbare fabric. You step further into the apartment allowing Simon to slip in behind you. He turns the locks on the door, and reaches down unlacing his boots. 

“I don't have much to offer.. Is water okay?” You ask as you shrug off your alcohol stained coat. The fabric is a sticky mess, the fabric ruined from the drink spilt on it at the bar. Tossing it onto the counter, you head over to the cabinet and take down two glasses. 

“Water is okay,”  Simon walks into your living room and takes a seat. He watches you fill the two glasses with water and you come and sit on the other side of the couch, handing him the glass. 

“When did you find out?” Simons asks, taking his face mask off and shoving it into his pocket and taking a sip of water. 

“This afternoon… I went in to get my birth control shot and they make you do a pregnancy test…” You pull your legs up to your chest, holding the glass of water in one hand. The other hand wraps around your shins keeping them pulled up to your chest.

“Did they tell you how far along you are?” He asks, “So we know what our options are, I mean.” 

“They said based on the blood work, 12 weeks. But I have to go in to get an ultrasound next week..” 

“Okay, so we don't have a lot of time to make a choice… have you thought about what you want to do?” Simon sets his glass down on the table next to the couch.

“I .. I don't know.. I was waiting to hear what you had to say before I made up my mind.” You mumble, your eyes trained on a spot of carpet that is fraying.

“If I'm being honest, I never wanted kids. They were never in my cards… I'm not saying I don't like them, kids are great, I just never pictured myself having any,,” he admits.

Your heart sinks.

Here we go, he's going to tell you to get rid of it, and tell you to delete his number, forget he exists and move on with your life. 

“But, with you, it feels right.. There's just something about you that I can't get out of my head and at the risk of sounding like a total barbarian. The thought of having you in my life until I die because of this baby fills me with excitement. I wanted to go after you when you snuck out of my apartment but I didn't want you to be uncomfortable. The night I spent with you was one of the best nights I've ever had. So if you would like to, I would love the chance to raise this baby with you. Even if it's as friends and nothing more. Because I know that you were put into my life for a reason, and I'm going to take any chance I can get to keep you around,” Simon finishes, his hand coming to rest on your ankle. 

You sit there for a few moments, mind reeling with everything he just said to you. He wanted to raise a baby with you? Just so he could get to know you? Did you really have that much of a profound effect on him? Would he still feel the same when he found out what had happened to you? Could you do this? I mean really do this?

Babies are huge commitments. They were for life; there was no backing out. But the way Simon was looking at you, like he would take on the world for you with barely knowing you. It made you feel like you could do it. As long as you didn't have to do it alone, well, at least not completely. You chew on your bottom lip for a few more minutes, the thoughts rolling around in your head as Simon's eyes trail around your apartment. 

“Okay…” you finally whisper and Simon's head whips towards you.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I-i don't think i can get rid of it anyway… The thought makes me feel sick,” you confess and the tension in Simon's shoulders all but disappears. 

“Alright, we can figure this out. No pressure for us to be together, we can just start by becoming friends, and seeing where things go okay?” He smiles, and its a real genuine smile. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you can't help your own smile that spreads across your lips. 

“If we’re being honest here,” you sigh, wringing your hands together in your lap,”I couldn't stop thinking about you either… I mean, even before all… yeah.. You know.”

Simon's hand comes over to rest on the side of your face, and he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I'm glad to hear that I wasn't the only one with lingering thoughts,” he chuckles.

Simon drops his hand and looks around your place once more, a furrow deep in his brow. He opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it, before he notices the time on the clock hanging on your wall. It was almost 10 and he needed to check over his gear before he shipped out in the morning. 

“I hate to do this… but I have to go,” his lips pulled down into a thin straight line.

“Oh right.. You told Price you would see him in the morning…”

“Yeah… Look, i can't tell you much, but i don't know how long i’ll be gone…” he looks around, and grabs the notebook you write your ideas for articles down in and scribbles on a spare piece. “This is my number, i won't promise i’ll respond while i'm away, but if anything happens, call this number 3 times in a row and you’ll get through to someone who can get a message to me okay? But that is only for emergencies, otherwise just text me and i’ll do my best to get back to you, alright?” He tears the paper out, coming to stand in front of you. He presses the paper into your hand. It crumples slightly as you close your hand around it.

“Okay,” you murmur, looking up at him from your spot on the couch. His fingers crush along your cheek as he brushes a strand of your hair back from your face. 

“Be safe, keep the door locked… i’ll be back soon and we’ll go do something fun and get to know each other.” Simon smiles, as he takes a few steps backwards towards the door. 

“I’ll hold you to it,” you smile, “Be safe out there.”

The only response is the soft click of the door.

Next: Part 4